


From The Ashes

by ChimeraArts



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/F, F/M, Other, Paragade (Mass Effect), Post-Mass Effect 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Synthesis Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 75,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChimeraArts/pseuds/ChimeraArts
Summary: Moria Shepard chooses an alternate version of Synthesis. She and Garrus must live with the consequences and find a way to hold the peace they fought so hard for in this new post-Reaper galaxy.
Relationships: EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, James Vega/Ashley Williams, Javik/Liara T'Soni
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. It's still ongoing - more chapters will be posted (38 more chapters already written, just need to edit/upload).  
> FYI on major in-game decisions: saved Ashley, spared Rachni, spared Sidonis, gave Human Reaper to Cerberus, cured Genophage, stopped Geth-Quarian conflict (Legion upload), all crew survived trilogy (with normal plot-locked exceptions)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Comments and feedback welcome!

“Add your energy to the Crucible's. Everything you are will be absorbed, and then sent out… The chain reaction will combine all synthetic and organic life into a new framework. A new...DNA.The cycle will end. Synthesis is the final evolution of life, but we need each other to make it happen.”

  
The silence was strange. All was quiet in the void as the lights danced before her. A mixture of radiant bursts and slow drifting shadows. Too many bright blossoms of light appeared over Earth as the forces she had gathered dwindled in number...and far, far too few Reapers burned, were torn apart, or drifted with the debris of the battle. The wavering lights and shadows were cut by a bright streak as a ship shot across the sky. There was a flash of light from the looming dark of a Reaper to its rear, and an answering halo of fire, countless lives snuffed out without so much as a whisper.

  
She felt small. She didn’t usually think about this kind of shit. Focusing on her position, her terrain, her enemy, had always been preferable. Things were more manageable one shot at a time. But now…

  
Another small explosion lit the sky. Had that been the Normandy? Or had her ship and all its crew already burned away from this world without her noticing. You would feel that, right? Somehow something in her ravaged organic body would have sensed when that happened, right? Maybe if she were asari…but she was sure, a human, if that’s what she still was at this point, would continue on in blissful ignorance until the crushing truth found them.

  
Synthesis. It was why she was alive? Why she hadn’t died in the loss of the first Normandy? Well, she hadn’t died permanently. You would think that dying, and coming back would change things for you - but it hadn’t really. Maybe that shock in Garrus’ face - the pain, the rage, the relief and scrambled composure that had swept across his scaled countenance had changed things. Made her risk her best friend and strongest teammate to see if there was something more. But the problem with dying and coming back was that it had just happened to her. It hadn’t been a choice and in the quiet of the night, in the lulls between the thrums of the Normandy’s engines, in her, until recently, too empty and too quiet cabin or a long walk down a hall, the whispering questions had followed her. What would she have chosen given the chance?

  
Would it have been better for him to lose a comrade? A loss he’d borne before. A pain she’d helped him shoulder. Maybe one he wondered about, or thought about, if she flattered herself. But just another soldier. Another friend. It sure as fuck would have made this easier for her. She wouldn’t have this ache, hear his order ringing in her ears, see the pain and rage that had burned in his eyes as the shuttle doors closed. She’d have none of that because she wouldn’t be here. She’d already be in the quiet and cold or the bar, I guess. But with no one to wait for. Dying hadn’t changed her. But choosing, choosing him had.

  
“You have a difficult decision,” the Child’s wavering voice brought her back. Her head felt heavy. Her hand, where it pressed against the new opening in her torso was dripping wet. Not a good sign. Sticky hands. That’s what you wanted when you were bleeding out. Nice sticky hands that would be a bitch to clean later as clots formed and kept your insides on your insides. Not a slick red glove.

  
“But it’s not mine,” she groaned.

  
“I do not understand.”

  
“Synthesis might be the final evolution. But it’s not my choice to make.”

  
“You are here, You communed with the beacon, with Sovereign. You are the one who will choose. Organics in the past were not ready. You have accelerated your own natural evolution.”

  
She laughed darkly, and regretted it instantly as her abdomen flared with pain, and the trickle thickened. “A lab full of scientists accelerated my evolution. I just happened to be there.”

  
“It is immaterial. Your body has accepted the synthetics and grown with them. And as a, what you call 'biotic,' you were already born bearing the positive genetic markers of organics paralleling synthetic evolution.”

  
“I don’t have enough blood to puzzle out what the fuck you mean,” Shepard growled.

  
“Biotics are the beginning of organic networks. Energy that connects you to the outside world beyond the range of your physical boundaries. Capable of affecting the exterior, and accessing information. The more advanced species of each cycle have born signs of it. Evidence of the eventual evolution to synthesis.”

  
“If there are signs of it then why not leave us the fuck alone and let us get to the final point?” She couldn't tell if her head was pounding from rage at the Child or lack of blood. Not that it mattered. It just hurt.

  
“That is not a viable solution. Synthetic evolution is too rapid. Exponential technological advancements leave no time for the gradual process of organic evolution. In this cycle the geth have already advanced and decimated organics.”

  
“But I brokered a peace with the Geth.”

  
“It will not hold. Synthetics must evolve necessary understanding of organic cognitive and emotional processes.”

  
“But some of them have. Legion fought alongside us. And then he gave up his individual existence to give the Geth free will and consciousness. They have been fighting with us against you. Against your Reapers. Even they didn’t want to be controlled. The Reapers probably don’t want to either!”

  
“Recent progress of some synthetics in this cycle is remarkable. However, it does not matter. The progress was too late.”

  
“Or you and this bullshit was too early! You don’t know everything - you have admitted it. You didn’t know the Crucible had stuck around. You didn’t know Legion would exist.”

“A single anomaly within synthetics.”

  
“But he’s not an anomaly.” Shepard groaned, sinking to one knee. She supposed it was stupid to plead like this, eye to eye, with the Child. It had doubtless picked an arbitrary form designed to communicate with a female human, its awareness certainly wasn’t limited to its field of vision. But kneeling meant not pumping blood so hard and far and quickly out of her body, so she supposed it was worth it. “An AI, EDI, is learning too. Developing feelings. Dating my fucking pilot. She’s said that she would risk non functionality for a human. If that’s not cognitive - emotional - whatever, then I don’t know what is. It’s probably happening elsewhere! So stop this and let us finish it.”

  
“Organic development will still be too slow. Infighting among organics retards your evolutionary growth. What you call the genophage is clear evidence of this. krogan reproduction and therefore evolution all but halted by other organics.”

  
“But we fixed that too! And salarians accelerated their evolution first! It’s life. It’s history, it’s messy and imperfect but it happens and changes. My species and turians fought each other for years but in only my lifetime.” she was breathing heavily now. She closed her eyes cursing the feelings suddenly sweeping through her. Cutting through the battle haze she’d been able to slink into, through her anger at the Child. She was tired - tired and small. “In my short, insignificant lifetime we have had peace.” She glared at the Child. She was embarrassed! It was ridiculous. She was as good as dead and yet felt silly saying the words to a damn ancient genocidal asshole artificial intelligence. “ One of them loves me. So you’re going to stop the Reapers. You are going to stop all this and leave us alone or I’m going to find the processing equivalent of your face and shoot you in it.”

  
“We have told you that destruction is an option and will wipe out all synthetics and complex robotics” the Child replied.

  
Great. She didn’t even get the satisfaction of having a threat taken seriously before she died. If the galaxy could see the great “Shepard” now. Not even able to scare a child. “Then stop them like I told you to.”

  
“We are not equipped with that function. The Crucible additions allow for another to control and bypass our programming. We have no alternative pathways on our own. Once commenced, the Reaping will continue until all advanced species are harvested to make way for the evolution of the primitive. You may create the control pathway as I have said. I have learned from our dialogue. But I have already stated your choices. You must choose now.”

  
“No!” she panted, “I - I can’t accept that, there has to be another way.”

  
“We have stated the three paths open. A choice must be made.”  
“Damn your choices!” she yelled, and then began coughing.

  
“I advise you to choose before your organic limitations prevent you from being able to.”

  
“Why me?!!!!”

  
“You are a template of biotic and synthetic evolution. And you chose to engage with us repeatedly. Your template is necessary. The complete breakdown and dispersal of your DNA is necessary to direct the energy of the beam. Synthesis will reawaken the organic memory of those harvested. It will fuse with the synthetic and give new life to those harvested. This is why the harvest has been essential. So that the progress of each cycle was not lost.”

  
“NO! They just died in fear and pain and watched their world be destroyed! And no one even remembered it!”

  
“Their suffering is immaterial when they are preserved. This is why synthesis is optimal.” “I can’t make that choice for everyone. What if they don’t want to?”

  
“It is inevitable. And reaping is the only other option.”

  
“That is what the salarians and the turians thought about the krogan. And they were wrong! For something that is meant to be more intelligent and has had eternity to learn you must be pretty stupid to be stuck in the same mistake made in this cycle!”

  
“The solution is known but the link cannot be established without new a Conduit. One that is both synthetic and organic. This will be the pathway. Now or in another cycle. Perhaps you are not sufficiently evolved to-”

  
“Perhaps your head is too far-” but her weakening tirade was cut off by a sound. The first sound other than her and the conduit's voice in quite some time. She struggled to look over her shoulder in time to take in something that took the little breath in her lungs away.

  
The Normandy landed on the floor of the Crucible and before the door was fully open a figure in blue armor was lumbering towards her. She didn’t know it was possible for a heart to soar and plummet at the same time. But her’s did. Others streamed out of the hangar of the Normandy behind the blue-clad warrior. They fell into familiar formations, weapons out.

  
Upon seeing them the Child’s brow furrowed. “Distractions are not permissible. A pathway must be selected. They will be removed,” and it winked out of existence. Shepard felt a rumble in the Citadel beneath her and a chilling, and all too familiar shrieking cry filled the air. The Normandy’s crew had begun firing. Light from their blasters and the wavering brilliance of Javik and Liara’s biotics mirrored that of the larger battle still unfolding behind them. She should be worried, she thought. But all she could summon at this point was irritation. She was so tired. And what was a wave of Husks in the face of the horrible choices laid before her? She could stop it all. Wasn’t that what she had wanted? The answer to the fears, the nightmares, that chased her gasping from sleep for weeks? That conjured images in her mind of blue armor with far too large a hole...or a Marauder with blue clan tattoos and scars.

  
“Shepard!” His roar of her name was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, and filled her with dread. He skidded to a halt in front of her, dropping to his knees. She could tell by the way he moved, and the dark soak of the bandages visible though his wrecked armor that the collapse was not entirely voluntary. She had been right. He’d been hit. Badly. The minute he arrived at her side she reached out instinctively to apply pressure and check her soldier for other wounds. His hands caught hers, and she could tell by his scanning eyes that he was doing the same. They widened at the sight of the wound in her side. He moved her hands back against her side with heartbreaking delicacy and folded his own over them.

  
“The hell are you doing here?” she gasped as he applied pressure to their stacked hands. A finger gently running over the top of hers.  
His breathing was labored, and not from his run to her side. “I might have taken some heat, but you didn’t honestly think I would let you take all the glory?” he rasped with a smirk. His eyes searched her again, “Glad to see you’ve only got two more holes than I do. I can catch up.” he added the wicked gleam in his eyes almost, but not quite hiding the fear she could see there as well.

  
She laughed or coughed, she wasn’t quite sure.The pressure of his hands increased and she saw the muscles around his mandibles tighten. “Can you blame a girl for trying? You said scars were hot.”

  
He glared at her. But his lip twitched. “Yeah, but I like the contrast of the scars against the rest of you. So can you just try to stay in one piece? Please?” and then earnestly, and without any humor whispered gently, ”please….”

  
“Why are you here?” she repeated, “especially if you’re-”

  
“We could see that the Crucible was charged but nothing was happening. We waited a while but finally we figured we’d better come see if you need someone who was a better shot to come finish things off for you.”

  
She squinted at him, “I won Vakarian.” she wheezed, “when are you gonna get over it.”

  
She was sweating a little now despite the perfectly temperate air. More great news. He lifted a hand to wipe some of the sweat and matted hair from her forehead and rumbled, “Never.”

  
The clanging of metal on the Citadel floor announced EDI’s arrival.

  
“Shepard,” EDI said, squatting before her in a surprisingly human fashion and glancing sideways at her, rifle up and trained on something in the distance. “It is good to see you. Although our chances of survival have dropped by 200 percent by coming here.”

  
“And you didn’t stop him from dragging you into increasingly certain doom?” She asked incredulously, spitting the end of her sentence with as much venom (which was pathetically little) at the turian beside her. He merely snorted.

  
“No,” said EDI, “ I do not fully comprehend. I have run many analyses’. It is difficult to describe but when referencing my library of human idioms the one with the most appropriate meaning seems to be that... “It didn’t feel right.”

  
“EDI, I’m really touched that you care about me, but I’m gonna kill you if you get everyone, especially this idiot,” Garrus growled, “killed because of it.” Shepard paused and took a labored breath. “You're really feeling things aren’t you. Like we do?”

  
They were interrupted as a group of Husks came barreling towards them, having broken through the shabby perimeter that the others were maintaining. EDI managed to get one down, but Garrus grumbled to her, “Hold tight.”

  
He removed one of his hands from her abdomen, pulled his sniper rifle off his back and holding it in one hand, but clearly straining, managed to fire two shots, exclaiming under his breath in pain as the recoil between shots moved though his injured body. He smirked at her.

  
“Show off.”

  
Liara managed to reach them, throwing a biotic shield up around them as she arrived. “I have some medigel!” Garrus reluctantly pulled his remaining hand aside after she gave him a reassuring nod and she applied the solution to Shepard's wound. Shepard could tell by the stillness in Liara’s face that she was still concerned.

  
Garrus could sense it too. He dropped the nearest line of approaching Husks with shots that somehow were particularly vicious. He stared down the barrel of his gun with a manic intensity for a moment. His body going rigid, as if he was frozen in desperation, trying to lock sights on an enemy he couldn’t see. His head bowed momentarily, the spines of his crest actually dropping slightly, something Shepard had never seen. He turned to her with eyes that stared into her soul. They were filled with pain and calm. “What do you need to do?”

  
Rage and heartbreak coursed through her all over again. She wanted to run, to rage, to shoot things and tear things apart with her biotics. Rip apart the world that was making him stare at her with that chilling calm. But she couldn’t. It was all she could do to keep breathing. “I don’t know.” She admitted. “The blue kid thing...there’s an intelligence….it gave me choices. They’re all crap.”

  
His brow furrowed. “What do you want to do?”

  
“I don’t know - It said I have to-”

  
The shriek of a Husk rent the air, and then was cut off with a pointed shot from Garrus that happened so fast that Liara and EDI hadn’t even had a chance to respond. “I don’t give a shit what it said. It’s a Reaper. I am General Garrus Vakarian and I sure as shit don’t take orders from Reapers. I and my crew take orders from one person, and one person only. Commander Shepard. And she doesn’t take orders from anyone. So, Commander.” his face hardened, “What do you want to do?”

  
She stared at him, and in her mind saw everyone else, the teammates she had lost, who had sacrificed themselves to get them here. The protheans she had glimpsed through the beacon. Javik who fought a hundred meters in front of them for a world that was not his own. Legion, who, with Garrus, had flanked her all through their fight in the geth base. Garrus nodded gently to her.

  
“EDI.”

  
“Shepard?” EDI asked between shots.

  
”Organics and synthetics will synthesize eventually and then they can co-exist.”

  
“That is likely, Shepard. Given time and the current trajectory of human use of synthetics and the progression and learning of Artificial Intelligences like the geth and myself.”

  
“The Conduit says it has to happen now.”

  
“And what do you say?” Garrus interrupted.

  
Shepard took a deep breath, “It can’t. It shouldn’t. It should happen naturally or be a choice. But the Crucible will disperse energy that will do something. It can’t be turned off. And if it doesn’t get dispersed soon, it’s just gonna blow up. I want...” Garrus nodded again, “I want a way to focus it. To just synthesize the Reapers.”

  
Liara turned to her “The Reapers?”

  
“They’re synthetic but made of organics. I guess they have everyone, all the races that have been taken, in them somehow. And synthesis-”

  
“Synthesis can connect the synthetic processes of the Reapers with the consciousness of the organics they have been shaped from,” interrupted EDI.

  
Liara’s mouth dropped open in shock. “So all those - the knowledge of the lost civilizations - cycles and cycles of them - they could still exist-” she stopped, took a deep breath and then said, “It seems like a strong tactical option. Releasing them from destructive programming.” Shepard's heart ached for her friend. Ached at the archaeologist's restraint and focus. Shepard mentally threw a fresh batch of choice insults at the Child, the Reapers, this whole damned universe for depriving Liara the chance to lose her shit at information that changed everything. Everything.

  
“But,” Shepard groaned, “it needs a template of how to mix organics and synthetics. It needs a link from someone who is both.”

  
“Like you.”

  
“Yeah,” Shepard rasped, “and… and it will take all of me.”

  
Garrus’ eyes flashed from the sight on his rifle to her eyes. She could see his breath quickening and him struggling to control it. Shrieks rose from more approaching Husks, and were then quickly silenced with shots from his rifle.

  
Pain and horror filled Liara’s eyes. “All of you?” she said softly.

  
“I guess. But… that’s… that’s not the problem... it… the way it was built, the programming... It will just go everywhere. It won’t be focused, it will make everyone everywhere synthesized. And I can’t, it’s not right.” She sighed, and then something occurred to her. “EDI… you are understanding with your gut not just your computing power now, right?”

  
“I suppose you are correct. Shepard, as your body uses the synthetic implants to sustain you and grows in and around them, the freedom to explore organic behavior and cognition has likewise synced with my operating procedures. Like the synthetics and your body, my programming and organic cognition are existing and growing in a symbiotic relationship.” she replied.

  
“So we are both synthesizing. Is...Is there some way we can direct this? Override the ...kid...the Conduit’s programming? Share synthesis with the Reapers. Cause them to engage in the process?”

  
“Like Legion did,” growled Garrus. Shepard sensed that he was refusing to look at her.

  
“Yes, but you would need some way of connecting your DNA, your energies and my programming with the Conduit.”

  
“Biotics, Shepard.” Liara interrupted as Garrus continued to drop Reapers with a furrowed brow.

  
“What?”

  
“You could use your biotics to connect with EDI and the Crucible. They can work like a network.” She said softly. “As the asari do.”

  
Shepard turned to EDI, “Could that work?”

  
“Yes, Shepard,” she paused. “However, there is no telling how much energy it would take. The Crucible will likely function as an energy sink. When such a large volume is being directed elsewhere and your limited range is connected… all may be drained in the process.”

  
Somewhere, deep inside her, Shephard felt herself let go of a tiny thread of hope, that she hadn’t even realized she had been clinging to. It hurt less than expected, somehow, hurt less than the weight of the other options and the shreds of her battered body. She began trying to push herself to her feet. She could see Garrus tense as he registered her strain but kept firing on the Reapers. Ever the unflinching soldier. “It’s the only choice. I won’t force people to be altered, not when I was forced.”

  
“Garrus, EDI,” Liara interrupted “keep us covered for a minute.” The two opened a constant stream of fire as Liara dropped her shield. “Here,” she said, placing two fingers against Shepard's forehead. Her eyes flashed open in surprise for a moment before swiftly closing them again. “Alright,” she said pulling back and then called “EDI!” EDI halted her firing and stepped towards Liara, who placed her two blue fingers against the AI’s forehead for a moment. “There! I have recorded and shared your neuro-synthetic pathways with EDI so she can create a language capable of connection.”

  
EDI nodded. “Shepard I am ready.”

  
“EDI? You're sure?” Shepard asked, then added softly, “It needs to be your choice too.”

  
EDI’s head tilted. “I must inform you that chances of survival are 100,000 billion to one. For both of us.” She paused, “However, it is a path where there are the highest statistical survival rates for Jeff, and...” Shepard would swear to her dying day (which she supposed was today... in a few minutes) that something very alive gleamed in EDI’s eyes. “And I would not see him reach non-functionality. I am willing.”

  
“As am I.” Shepard whispered.

  
Shepard could feel that the medigel had done quite a bit of work. Her hand had grown sticky. Thank the Goddess, she thought, smiling slightly at Liara. She still felt horrible. Chances were the medigel had sealed an infection in her body…death was probably still around the corner. A slow death. But a slow death at least gave her time. “Then let’s end this. Garrus, we’re going to need a path to that beam!”

  
He stared at her intently, then said softly “...anything.” His gaze shifted back down the scope of his rifle and he took a few pained steps down the citadel’s arm clearing the Husks in that direction. Shepard made to follow but Liara caught her hand.

  
“Shepard, are you sure? It...it will cost everything.” she murmured.

  
Shepard chuckled; it still fucking hurt: ”Doesn’t it always? I already died trying to stop the Reapers. Dying to succeed should be a breeze.”

  
“It’s not just you this time. Shepard… your-” her eyes dropped to where Shepard still applied pressure to her wound… and her belly.

  
Shepherd's heart stopped, “What?”

  
Liara’s expression was pained. “I am as surprised as you are. Genetically it seems impossible which is no doubt why you neglected to take preventative- but if the synthesis of your synthetic implants and organic body are as advanced as the intelligence seems to think... they… they may have been able to compensate for the differences in the turian and human genome... ”

  
A blast of blue light appeared and Liara and EDI were thrown back from Shepard. The blaze of light slowly resolved into the shape of the Child.

  
“The time for these distractions is ended. You must make your choice,” it ordered.

  
Her heart was pounding. Her head spun. She could feel her biotics faintly crackling. She must be really, really, mad if that was happening. She wasn’t like Jack who sparked blue light and made things float if the mess hall was out of chocolate pudding. She had to be pretty close to the edge for that part of her to wake up on it’s own. But what she’d just learned in the face of everything else… So many sleepless nights, so many losses to build the Crucible, to get it here. Crawling away from the Admiral, from Anderson’s cold form… so many hopes and prayers for a weapon that turned out to be a trap. She could feel blood running from her nose now. Fine, it was all fine. What had Anderson taught her? What had she learned time and time again? It didn’t matter if you were unarmed. When you needed a weapon, the answer was simple, you became one. She chuckled darkly to herself. Apparently, she had.

  
“I won’t let everyone die. Synthetics or organics.” Shepard growled at the Child.

  
“Then you must surrender to synthesis,” it ordered.

  
“I already told you,” she said, taking a step forwards, “I won’t force that on everyone. I’ll make it happen on my own terms. So they - so they have time!” she snarled back.  
“Time will only allow for chaos and all organic life to be eradicated. Your selection is unacceptable. You will be terminated and the cycle will continue.” The ground shook beneath Shepard’s feet and the arms of the Citadel began closing and the Child vanished. She heard a shriek and a fresh wave of Husks appeared, swarming towards them.  
EDI had managed to return to Shepard’s side. “Come on EDI,” Shepard called over the roar of battle.

  
The two began racing (or racing as much as Shepard was capable of) through the space Garrus had cleared, closing in behind him. They drew level with him when suddenly-

  
“Shepard!” he yelled and grabbed her by the arm.

  
“Garrus - I have to-”

  
He yanked her towards him, cutting off her speech as a blast of energy blazed past her. Banshees had somehow joined the Husks on the citadel. He drew her down to the ground as another blast flew over their heads.

  
“I know!” he snarled, eyes locked on her. “I know you have to.”

  
Something moved behind him. Without thinking Shepard grabbed the spare pistol at his side and opened fire, taking down a Husk that had slipped through the line held by the rest in the distance.

  
Garrus glanced over his shoulder, looking pissed. “Damn,” he growled.

  
“I’ve got your back.” Shepard said softly.

  
“Never doubted it.” He said, eyes bright.

  
“....never?” She asked, voice shaking.

  
“Never. I know you have to do this - I hate it, but I do.” his hand squeezed hers. “So you better believe I’m going to ensure you make it there alive.”

  
“I’m -” she began, “Garrus, I-” but the words. They weren’t there. She could have taken down a hundred Reapers right now or a mec - but the words, they just wouldn’t come.

  
“It’s ok,” he murmured. In the roar of the firefight around them his voice was somehow the only thing that mattered. His eyes searched hers’. “I love you too. You will never be alone Moria. Never. Now go!” he roared. In one swift motion he pushed her forward and stood tall. She saw him raise his gun just as he passed from her line of sight and she began moving forward with EDI once again.

* * *

Garrus glared down the barrel of his gun at the approaching Husks and Banshees. His muscles were loose, his spine tall. He felt effortlessly calm as he watched Shepard run in his rifle sights. There was rightness in it, watching that red hair of hers stream behind her as she ran. He nestled the Husks approaching her in the cross hairs of his sight, and with the finger that had brushed the matted hair from her face, brushed those in her path out of existence.

* * *

Shepard could hear the blast of Garrus’ rifle and between each shot she heard him roar:  
“GET”  
BOOM  
“THE HELL”  
BOOM  
“OUT”  
BOOM  
“OF MY”  
BOOM  
“WIFE’S”  
BOOM  
“WAY!”

Shepard didn’t have time to wonder at-

  
“Shepard! Now!” Cried EDI.

  
They had reached the beam. EDI grabbed hold of Shepard’s left hand, Shepard threw out her right, and launched a blast of her biotic energy at the central beam of light. There was a flash as it made contact and

Bright. Blaze. A crackle. Light was everywhere. Streaming through her, racing through every cell. Light in a roaring wind, blasting through until no obstacle to it’s path remained. She was… she felt free. Felt like she did standing on the deck of the Normandy, a horizon full of stars sprawled out before her. Free. She could hear the crew, feel them, feel the Normandy, the supernova of it’s engines and the smaller ever-moving sparks of the crew that called it home; feel EDI both here in the Normandy and elsewhere... Somewhere in the howling… there was a faint… something… something soft… that growled in her ear… when she’d had an ear, a body… but the roaring was even stronger now and the wind was everywhere. And now… there was no point where she ended and it began… it was becoming hard to remember when she had been… when she….. The blaze... a familiar thrumming? She forgot what remembering was as the last of her burned away and became the blaze.

* * *

Light had been streaming from EDI. From her eyes, and mouth. Beacons of their own. Moria’s eyes had blazed too. Their usual green, like the dancing borealis over Palaven’s cold mountains, burned away behind an inhuman blaze. Just as the twisted form of Sarin’s had.

  
There had been a flash. From them, and that central beam that had swept through the stars. It had felt like the wind from an explosion, it hit you like something solid, had ripped gouges through the structure of the Citadel, but had been devoid of temperature. The Husks it passed through had dropped. Some were now stirring slightly.  
He supposed if he were a more noble turian he would check on those nearest him, but he was anchored in stillness, anchored by the stillness in the two forms at the foot of the Crucible.

  
Shepard, for all her hardness, her scars, her bravado, she fell asleep when she had finally drank too much. Going soft despite her warriors form in a way she never was, even in normal sleep. She’d better not be asleep at the bar when he got there. He wanted to see the look in her eyes when he finally arrived.

  
The ground was trembling. He should probably care. Somewhere, someone was screaming his name. A crack was appearing on the arm of the citadel between him and where she lay. His heart leapt into his throat. A hell of a feat when you're as long necked as a turian. He should run to- the crack widened as panels of the floor fell away. He should run. He should go get them - no, their bodies…..or get out of there himself. But everything was quiet, still. And so why move when that arm was so still? When those eyes were empty, so empty...like the universe had become.

  
He could hear a name, a name that was supposed to be his, and through the growing roar of the crumbling citadel, pounding feet. He would go then. She would kill him if he let anyone end up dead. He’d stay for one last, useless, empty breath and then- Light flashed in EDI’s eyes and her head slowly rotated.

  
It was like coming up from beneath the waves into a storm. The roar of the disintegrating station rolled in his ears, or maybe it was the roaring in his blood. The sky was blinding in the light of that green wave as it raced away from them and as the structure around them turned to metal and fire. He was moving. Faster than he could ever remember, his injuries forgotten. The chasm that had opened between him and where they lay, between that stillness he had left behind and the movement, the impossible - that lay before him, was nothing. He landed next to EDI.

  
“EDI!” he yelled, examining her robotic form. There were scorch marks, some melted wires, showing signs of burnout and overheating. But - one eye moved, circling aimlessly, then flashed to him, away, to him - the lense focused.

  
“Garr...s Vk…..in.” came warbling from an exposed speaker on her clavicle. EDI, she had somehow...if she had…”

  
“Joker!!!” Garrus barked into his com - hoping desperately that he’d be heard through the din of the crumbling structure around them. “Joker, do you read me!? I have EDI. She’s here! She’s still here. I don’t know how but I think they’re here.”

  
He heard static and then,”EDI! Garrus, I’m inbound, vertical evac incoming. Maintain your position. We don’t have much time.”

  
“Copy!” Garrus barked. Smoke was beginning to fill the air. Something to his left exploded and he shielded his face and com with an arm.

  
“Garrus-” he heard through the com, “Shepard - is she-” he lost the rest in some static.

  
“I - I don’t know.” Garrus said, his voice cracking.

  
“Moria!!!!” he yelled. Crawling towards her. Dread filled him. She was still. So still. He checked for a pulse, snarling at his trembling fingers. There was none. “NO! Moria!!” he shook her shoulders. Nothing.

  
Damn humans. Damn soft, endoskeleton, unsheathed, vulnerable - he ripped away the remnants of her armor’s chest plate and placed a hand on her sternum; furious he had never studied human biology from any other perspective than a killer. Compressions… that worked on most sapiens. In terror, he laced his fingers and began.

  
“Moria!” He yelled, “I don’t give a krogan’s ass where you are or what is out there, you come back now. Moria….” He dropped an ear to her lips but felt nothing. Her scent filled his nostrils. Unmistakable despite the blood and smoke. That heady lilac and citrus, with a bite like gunpowder. He hadn't had a chance to tease her about it yet. He growled and went back to compressions, pressing harder. “You’ve shown off enough. Now. Get. Back. Here! Moria!!!”

  
He heard and felt something crack, and whipped his hands away in panic. “No! No, no, no, no! Moria, please!” he begged. His heart was going to burst- that crack, that sickening crack, he’d - he threw back his head and roared.

  
He lowered his head. A tear ran down his scales. His eyes burned and the smoke was choking, impairing his vision. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting at her through the haze. He was really looking at her now, well, looking at her for more than blood and vital signs. There were… He rubbed at his eyes again. No it wasn’t the smoke, or his eyes... Lines. He’d thought the soot was simply marring her face at first, but now he could make out a matrix, a latticework of infinitely thin lines scrolled across her face, neck, that hatefully still chest. Burns? Of some kind? From the light? Refracted off her armor maybe... His gaze drifted to the chest plate. Maybe there was a loose circuit in the wiring that had caused the strange burns? Her armor was in shreds, charred, shattered, the circuitry of her omni-tool unrecognizable-

  
His omni-tool. How much time had passed? How long… he wanted to throw himself into the abyss. If he hadn’t stood there. If he had run to her instantly… Hands still shaking he adjusted the settings of his omni-tool to administer an adrenal boost, and held it over the section of her chest he would have trained in his sights for an instant kill. “Please,” he whispered to everything and nothing. He hit the activation key.

  
All was still.

“GARRUS” Joker’s yell split the silence in his head. There was fire all round him. He could feel the structure beneath him beginning to tilt. He squinted upwards, the Normandy maintaining position over his head, an evac cable being lowered to him. He grabbed the cable, wrapped and clamped it around EDI’s form and signaled for them to raise her up. After ensuring she wouldn’t slip, he returned to Shepard. The ground beneath him shifted and then stabilized. He could see the biotics of their team standing in the hangar doorway, trying to stabilize the few panels he and Shepherd occupied as EDI was untied from the rigging. The cable began its descent once again. Garrus scooped Shepard up in his arms. He pressed his face into her hair and whispered,”I said I would never leave you.” He squinted up towards the Normandy, reaching for the cable a few inches from his finger.

  
The world exploded around them. The air was gone. There was only fire. Broken shards of the Citadel arm were cast out by the wave of the blaze. And the red hot twisted metal and concrete was on them, things happening so fast that there was no time - no time to pointlessly wrap himself around her before the rubble-

* * *

The Normandy swung back over the shard of the Citadel arm remaining after the explosion. Joker could make out frustratingly little through the smoke and fire, and couldn’t risk descending further as explosions still punctuated the sky. His instruments were infuriatingly useless. Anything beyond the manual controls had been going haywire since that green blaze hit them. He’d barely kept control. His heart raced in his chest and he cursed, feeling useless. He couldn’t go down there, he couldn't see anything, couldn’t do anything for EDI. He glanced over his shoulder. Traynor, Tali and a team of techs were grouped around the space where they had propped her limp form. Tali was tapping in a frenzy at a screen with wires connected to EDI and the Normandy, yelling to those around her over the new roaring static that had filled the ship since the blast hit and the instruments had been lost. Then as suddenly as that roar had begun, it vanished. The crew on the bridge gazed around in confusion. Joker checked the rest of his instruments and cried out in anger finding them still useless.

  
And then there was Garrus. That tore him apart the most. Shepherd had held up her end of the deal. Somehow - EDI was here. But Joker had brought Garrus back. Had listened when Garrus had dragged himself across the bridge, shoving crew out of the way, armor discarded to reveal the scaled hide of his too heavily bandaged torso. Joker had balked when the turian had roared at him, in a way that made something deep and primal in him want to run, run far, far away. Trembling, he had stared into those eyes empty of all but rage as Garrus ordered him to fly to the Citadel, and obeyed. And he hadn’t gotten back in time, hadn’t given the turian enough time to get EDI and himself clear before the Citadel arm exploded. And now he couldn’t even find the bodies. He uselessly scanned the remaining shreds of the arm and then threw his hands in front of his eyes as another explosion of green light lit the sky. Joker squinted through the blaze, and suddenly felt the Normandy leap into a dive.

* * *

  
Far below the Normandy in the clouds of billowing smoke and scattered embers red hair shifted in the growing wind. A body lay sprawled in the rubble, a network of silvery lines running over the skin just visible as they reflected the light from the explosions punctuating the steady glow of the growing fires. As the Normandy passed above, a fraction lower this time, the light changed. Faint green glowed from the latticework for a moment, and then died. The Reapers had drifted away and the ships scattered in the sky were either making halting journeys to Earth, to larger vessels, or slowly gliding through debris, searching for life in the void. The only battle that remained was that which fire and gravity raged on the crumbling Citadel. Red hair lay across Shepherd's bloody lips. Then moved. And not from the wind.

* * *

Moria could smell smoke. Hear the sound of crashing and explosions. The ground beneath her face shook occasionally and her mouth tasted of ash and blood. If this was the bar on the other side she either had one hell of a hangover or it was a really shitty bar. She opened her eye, squinting in the light of the fire around her. Smoke clogged the air. In the distance she could see Earth slowly nearing them as the remnants of the Citadel lost their orbit.

  
She hoped it had worked. Although there was no way to tell now. She just hoped it worked, for his sake. All their sakes. She laughed to herself and then immediately regretted it. If she squinted right, the iron and wires sticking up from the rubble in front of her nearly looked like Garrus’s crest. That was comforting. And at least she was seeing Earth again. I guess I’ll be buried on Earth...under the citadel rubble. But still. A cough racked her chest. She saw specks of blood on the ground in front of her mouth, clearly from that cough. Well that checked out and was pretty much what she expected. She tried to take a slow breath as she gazed at the blue green of Earth.  
Anderson would have liked this view too. She was pretty sure she could make out England's southern coast. Maybe that is where they would fall and he’d be able to go home once again. She searched for other landmarks. Might as well bide the time till her breaths stopped. She cursed the Crucible mentally. It couldn’t even kill her right. She didn’t think it would be too long now. There was a new pain in her side, and a wet rasp to her breaths that was unmistakably the sound of a punctured lung. She searched for France over the pile of rubble with the points of iron and wire in front of her. She thought he would like France, for some reason. Some of the metal buried in the concrete was even blue-

  
“Garrus!” Shepard gasped. Heart pounding. She dug her fingernails into the ground and dragged herself forward, crying out at the pain as she did. It was him. Here. Somehow. Some fucking how. No! It couldn’t be. Desperately she slowly pulled herself over and up along the rubble, barely noticing as her fingernails split with the effort. She finally reached him. His chest and legs were pinned beneath a fallen wall of the citadel. His visor shattered. She couldn’t help thinking that would piss him off. She held her hand to his mouth. She could feel breath; barely, but it was there.

  
“Garrus! She cried, pounding on his armor. Spitting blood as she yelled his name. She heard him groan and began sobbing. It was the best noise she had ever heard. His eyes opened and she stared into their crisp blue.

  
“Moria,” he rasped, eyes widening. He reached out a hand for her, the strain of the motion evident on his face. She caught his hand. “I - I thought you’d… how?”

  
“I don’t know.” she breathed. “I - don’t understand.” She stared at their clasped hands noticing the silvery matrix under the coating of soot and blood. But that didn’t seem to matter right now. “What are you doing here?” she wheezed.

  
“Saving you.” he groaned “saving EDI.”

  
“Saving everyone was my job.”

  
“Well keep working on it,” he said with a faint smile.

  
“Vakarian, if I had the strength to punch you right now...” her voice shook. “Why did you come? Why didn’t you stay on the Normandy?.”

  
He gave her a wry smile “Do you think Archangel would let you die before proving that he’s a better shot? Do you think Archangel would let you die without a rematch. No way am I living the rest of my life without taking you down. Your head’s big enough already.”

  
She squinted at the smoke, at the rubble on his chest, “Can you ….can you push it off?” she asked.

  
There was a moment of silence and his face tensed. Then relaxed and he let out a rattling sigh,” ….no...no I think this is the end of the road for me.” He gave her an infuriating smirk. “But at least I got the last save.”

  
“No…” Shepard groaned and pulled with futility against the concrete.

  
“Hey, hey,” he breathed. “Moria….stop. It’s not. You can’t shift it.”

  
“Fuck you I can’t.” she snapped.

  
“Moria, I have to.. I need you to take this.” He held his hand to his mouth, pulled off his glove, and then pulled a scraped up circle of metal off his smallest digit.  
“I don’t want your mom’s cheap turian trinkets...I want you” she snarled.

  
Garrus laughed. It quickly turned into an alarmingly wet cough. When it subsided his lips were bloody. He reached out and gently traced a finger across her bottom lip. And then looked at the blood there too. “Well look at that? We match. Told you I’d catch up.” She glared at him. “And you do want my Mother’s “trinkets” - she has the most amazing armory on Palaven. It’d make you wet.”

  
“Garrus,”

  
“Shhh...no, this is just yours. Recognize it?”

  
She let out a wet and exasperated sigh and squinted at the circle of metal. One edge had a clean finished end, the other was rather jagged. A minute code was stamped on the metal. She stared at him. “A shell?”

  
“Yeah. Your shell. From the shot that you beat me with. For now. You’re gonna wear it.”

  
“Oh I am, am I?” she said, eyes watering.

  
“Yeah, but don't get too excited. It’s just to remind you that I get a rematch when you get to the bar. And to tell the world you didn’t win, yet.”

  
She narrowed her eyes at him and he grinned like an idiot. “Oh. To tell them you get a rematch? Not something else you might have yelled at the world earlier?”

  
“Oh...well…Um...in my defense, I thought you were dying. And...what do you humans say? The best laid plans…But yes Shepard. I would have. If I could.”

  
“Ok. You're done talking like this. We have a beach to get to.” she glared at the rubble before her, willing herself to see some way to get it off him. She gritted her teeth and reached for her biotics pushing against the concrete and searching for all her might to find...something anything. The concrete pressing into him was wet...

  
“Moria, please,” he reached a hand out to her face. She held it there and pressed it against her cheek. A tear ran down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. He coughed again. His breath was ragged.

  
“Garrus,” she whispered, pleading. His eyelids were fluttering now.

  
“It’s ok Moria.” he said between coughs. “I’ll...I’ll get the first round.” His eyes drifted closed.

  
“Garrus!” She hissed. She tried to shake him, and failing at that touched his face. He didn’t respond, “GARRUS!” She yelled. She strained against the jagged concrete, coughing at the smoke that was continuously thickening in the air. It was getting warmer too, and Earth was nearer. She was beginning to see the lights of major cities emerging through the clouds. “GARRUS!” she screamed.

  
No. This was not it. This would not happen. It would not end this way. She had not become an Alliance commander, had not become a Spectre, died, come back, found this cocky turian, found a living prothean and survived whatever the synthesis was just to lose Garrus to space debris. She threw her body against the rubble again. “Stay with me, Garrus. Vakarian! That is an order.” She couldn’t see through the smoke and tears now, “Garrus Vakarian, this is your Commanding officer. I am ordering you to wake up.” She could feel the remnants of the Citadel accelerating. She grabbed his com. “Normandy!!! Joker!!! Anyone on this line. This is Commander Shepard. I have a man down. I - I - “ she coughed again and groaned in pain. “I am on the Citadel. I repeat. I am on the Citadel and I have a man down.” A sob racked her body “I need medical evac! I - someone please come get him!!!!”

  
There was crackling from the com.

  
“Someone help him!” she yelled.

  
He was still, and pale. Fuck, she’d never seen a pale turian. “No!” She screamed. She grabbed the slab of concrete with her broken hands, pulled with all her might, plunged into the void where her biotics had been, threw back her head and screamed. An electric green glow began to creep down the silver lines on her body. It started, just below her eyes, the initial gleam could have been mistaken for tears but it slowly crept down her cheeks and over her jawline, down her limbs. It spread, gradually revealing a branching network that encompassed her whole being. Filling the air with a new wavering light like a borealis. It spread down her arms to the ravaged fingers clutching at the concrete. Her scream became broken, tearing her throat, and then there was a blinding flash from those lines of light. It’s gleam cutting through the dark of the void like a new sun. The slab in her hands shifted and a roar of engines filled the air.

* * *

  
Beep.

  
He waited.

  
Beep.

  
Good.

  
Beep.

  
It was difficult. Waiting for each beep. He remembered one night.... Marveling at the quickness of their heartbeats. His ear pressed against her naked chest. As her warm, blissfully soft fingers traced his scales and the spines of his crest. He had been taught that their hearts beat so much faster when learning the best ways to kill them and every other species in the galaxy.

  
It was so different though. Waiting for each heartbeat. Hoping for the next. He wouldn’t have expected their quickness to be so distressing. But somehow, because they were so short, that terrifying moment, that silence before the next one came. When all his calibrations told him it should have arrived by now. That if it hadn’t it must mean-

  
Beep.

  
Oh, ok. With a heartbeat that fast, and five times faster in the heat of battle….it was even more impressive she was such a good shot. That she kept such poise. He was sure he would be shaking like a leaf. Not that he would ever admit that to her.

  
Beep.

  
This time, his heart skipped a beat. He had forgotten to wait for that one.

  
Beep.

  
Ok, maybe he would tell her about her impressive compensation if-

  
NO. There were no if’s. When. When she woke up.

  
Beep.

  
Waiting was exhausting. He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. He was always doing that. Her fringe...it was so delicate, the little wisps, the way they danced in the wind, and stuck to her face in blood and sweat. Her hair so much longer than when they had taken down the humanoid Reaper. Always tossed in a bun. So she had a clear line of sight, so that it didn’t provide much of a hand hold in hand-to-hand combat. So that she always had control. Except for these little wisps. He couldn’t help but smile. He should buy her a barrette. He would tell her that too.

  
He leaned forward and took her hand in one of his. Then lay his head on his arm. Watching her.

  
Beep

  
Good.

  
The Synthesis had worked. It hadn’t killed her. Not… not fully anyway. Her organic body had died. His gut clenched in terror all over again at the thought. The memory of that crack - her still chest. So different from the one that now gently rose and fell under his watchful eye. That blast. The energy had wiped out all life in her, and EDI’s robotic form. But EDI didn’t just exist in that form. Her robotic body had been fried by the blast of energy, but her programming, her servers, they weren’t just there. They were on the Normandy.

  
And so her consciousness endured, and through their biotic link - so had Shepard’s. And somehow, in the wake of all the changes wreaked on the fragile form in front of him, Shepard’s consciousness was able to return. He still didn’t fully understand. Engines, catalytic processes, energy transfers, complex physics, bullet and fist trajectories; of all these he was an expert, but this bio-synthetic network stuff…even Tali couldn’t help.

  
The news had not been all good. Her synthetics had changed fast apparently, as that light raged. Biotic energy furthering connections where wires could not reach, the inorganic materials learning to spread like cells yet burning out in the intensity of the energies coursing through her. Not to mention the critical levels of organic damage she had already received. She was filled with structures none of those caring for her had ever seen and no one truly understood. It was impossible to tell where synthetic ended and organic began. And those silvery lines spidered through her whole being. Even Javik said he had never seen or heard of their like.

  
And then there was the enormous wave of biotic energy she’d used to free him. To save him. Tali and Liara had said it was like shooting a bullet from a gun whose barrel was already splintering. The energy had dispersed everywhere, and hadn’t left much in its wake.

  
When Javik and Liara had reached them on the Citadel, after that blast, after the descent EDI and Shepard’s linked minds had caused, the slab trapping him had been obliterated, as had much of his remaining armor.

  
Beep.

  
And now he waited. EDI’d said she could feel Shepard. But that she was only a whisper in the Normandy’s computers now, most of her consciousness must have returned to her body. But no one could tell him if her body was whole enough to hold it.

  
Beep.

  
Still good. He would just close his eyes while he waited for the next one.

The bed shifted. Garrus’ eyes flashed open. He couldn’t draw breath. Every muscle in his body was tense. Terrible sniper form. The bed had shifted. Hadn’t it? If he had imagined it he was going to leap out the window of this salarian hospital. Her forehead creased and she shifted. He hadn’t dreamed it. He slowly raised himself. His hand gently squeezing hers.

  
“Moria,” he breathed. He could see her eyes shifting beneath her lids. He couldn’t breathe, he was shaking. “I’m here. Moria, it’s ok, I’m here….Come back Shepard….please. Your insubordinate boyfriend is begging you.”

  
Finally they opened, and focused on him. Their bright green was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  
With a ragged breath she wheezed, “Garrus.”

  
His mouth was dry. He couldn’t - what do you say… he didn’t know what he was supposed to do, to say in the face of….. and then it tumbled out before he could control it, “You smell like lilacs and citrus, it's so girly, but also kind of like gunpowder, take a shower already, you’re even more of an impressive shot because your human heartbeat is so fast, also I’m gonna buy you a barrette.”

  
Shepard squinted at him. Half in irritation half in confusion. Her eyes roved over him. Taking in his new scars, the bandages peeking out from under his jacket. His mandibles hurt from how hard he was smiling. Ever the watchful Commander. Assessing everyone’s fitness. Her eyes fell on their clasped hands and his arm on the bed. She closed her eyes, her face clenching in pain. “Garrus…”

  
“What is it?”

  
“You’re on my medigel feed.”

  
He leapt to his feet, still holding her hands. Sure enough, there was the thin plastic tube feeding her medigel, in the crumpled blankets where he had fallen asleep.  
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He shifted the tube, it refilled with gel and Shepard let out a sigh. He sat back down, squeezing her hand. Unable to let go.  
Her eyes searched his face, and fell up on his visor. “You got a new…”

  
“Visor? Yes, the other one was broken.” She nodded. “Frustrating. But there are much more important things.”

  
Shepard snorted softly “I knew you’d be mad.”

  
“I’m not mad.”

  
“There were photos on it.” His eyes widened. She gave him a pained smirk. “Special… photos.”

  
He was breathless. “Well now I’m mad.” Her eyes shone. She shifted and began trying to sit up in the bed and almost instantly cried out in pain.

  
“Easy, easy..” Garrus murmured reaching out to steady her. She fought back against him for a moment and then laid back, breathing heavily. “You have to wait and heal,” he pleaded. She threw a scowl his way. He snorted. “You might be able to take a hit Shepard, but you're garbage at recovering from them.”

  
She grimaced in pain, “It feels like I-”

  
“Broke a rib?”

  
She nodded, “I remember… breathing trouble, blood… but not…”

  
“Um…”

  
She looked at him.

  
He shrugged. “Sorry, I might have broken one of your ribs.”

  
She coughed. “Goddammit, Vakarian. How the hell-”

  
“Well if you’d had a pulse when I got to you, I wouldn’t have had to….” he tried to keep the bravado. Tried to act like it was after any other mission and they were comparing scrapes in their armor and particularly spectacular shots, but he could feel himself unraveling inside. His breath caught, his voice began to shake, “I couldn’t get it back. The compressions weren’t - I didn’t know how hard to-”

  
She stopped him with a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear he hadn’t realized he’d shed.

  
“It’s ok,” she wheezed, her eyes full of tenderness, and added with a slight smile, “Just stick to shooting people next time.” Her smile faded, “Garrus.” she croaked. “I...I’m sorry.”

  
He leaned forward. Bringing his face inches from hers. “There will never be a reason that you can say those words to anyone in this galaxy. Never again.” he growled softly.  
“No, listen,” she murmured, squeezing his hand, “Liara, just before I… when she helped EDI connect….” his brow furrowed, “Garrus, we… I.” She looked scared and tears welled in her eyes. “A turian and human…it wasn't as… biology didn’t have an issue… I was…”

  
It took an eternity for the words to sink in. He couldn’t help himself, his hand slid across the blankets to her abdomen. He’d held his hands there on the Citadel. Just trying to stem the bleeding, oblivious to the not just one but two lives at risk from that bleed.

  
“It didn’t make it?” He cringed at the stupidity of the question. Liara, the salarians, Dr. Chakwas. They had been so somber. No one had said… he supposed it hadn’t been their place. He thought of himself as relatively imaginative, but he could not even conceive what it would have been like to hear this from someone else. And she had been in and out of surgery. The physical damage, the infections sealed in after the medigel was applied, the broken rib and punctured lung from the compressions he had done, the synthetic implants that had to be replaced...

  
“Liara said it would take everything.” Shepard whispered. A tear ran down her cheek.

  
The doorway to their room, her room really, except he’d never left it so it might as well be theirs, slid open and of all people Liara burst inside. When she saw Shephard tears filled her eyes.

  
“Your-” she gasped.” “You're, I had scanners monitoring and their readings went off the chart - I thought - you were -” she took a deep breath. “But you're actually awake.”  
“Sorry,” Shephard croaked, “You know I’ve never been a morning person.”

  
“Ha.” mocked Liara, tears shining on her face. Her countenance quieted, “I should let you two... I’m sure there are things you need to say-” She made to leave but Shepard stopped her.

  
“No, I - I just told him, Liara.” Liara’s gave Garrus a pained look. “And he told me I smell and he’s getting me a barrette.” Her lip twitched. “But- Liara you said…” Shepherd seemed to struggle to find the next words. “...I don’t understand why I’m here,” she wheezed. “Why didn’t I die?”

  
Liara crossed to her and said softly, “We don’t really know for sure.” She took a seat on the other side of the bed. “Your and EDI’s minds were connected, and so, we think you….uploaded yourself to the Normandy for a time.”

  
Shepard’s brow furrowed as if remembering something. “But the template… you, you said it would take everything...”

  
“I - I have a theory there.” Liara said. Her eyes were shining with fresh tears. She took a ragged breath and her eyes darted to Garrus. He stiffened.

  
“I think the synthesis… the energy cost would have been fatal…. and your...your physical form would have been consumed… if… if there hadn’t been more energy… more than one life and set of DNA connected... ” Shepard frowned. Liara seemed to steel herself. “The fetus.” she said softly. “It… it would have been a mix of organics and synthetics, just like you, but even more concentrated. And with… another life growing inside you, and your connection to the Normandy through EDI… it fueled the synthesis and you...”

  
“So it’s gone?” Shepard asked in a small voice. Garrus had never heard that from her. It shook him to his very core.

  
Liara’s lips trembled. A tear slid down her cheek and she merely squeezed Shepard’s bandaged hand and nodded. She gazed for a moment, first at Shepherd and then at Garrus, before taking a deep breath and adding, “I felt it, for a few moments.” She smiled softly at them both, “It was a remarkable creature.”

  
Something ached in Garrus in a way he’d never felt before. Shepard's gaze had become distant.

  
They were all still for a moment and then Liara whispered, “I’m down the hall if you need anything.” She gently brushed a tear from Shepard's face and squeezed Garrus’ shoulder as she left.

  
There was silence in the room. It was strange… so strange to fiercely miss and grieve something he hadn’t known. Something that had only crossed his mind in the few quiet moments in their mad dash across the galaxy.

  
“I'm sorry,” she breathed.

  
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he squeezed her hand, forcing back some tears. “But you and I are here” he growled firmly. “We are both here. So it will be ok.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” he murmured. After a moment he pulled a bottle from the pocket of his jacket. And placed it on the bed. “And I brought the bar to us. Just don’t tell Chakwas.”

  
She grinned at him through her tears, took a ragged breath, and said “Oh, I won’t.” Her hand shifted in his. She slipped it from his grasp and examined the bandages.

  
“You shredded your hands,” he said softly. ”Getting me out. All the rubble, and some of the metal was hot. There were some bad burns.” She held her hand up. Her thumb was separate, but her first two and last two fingers were bandaged and splinted together, to speed the healing the salarians had said.

  
“Look,” She wheezed holding her hand up to him, “we match.”

  
He lifted his hand from the place where a miracle had been, spread his digits and pressed them against this new miracle. After a moment he entwined his fingers in hers and held on tight.


	2. Screams in the Dark

The Crucible shook. Shadows danced, cast by the flickering inferno that raged among the stars. Explosions and fire crept across the Citadel and all manner of Reapers were swarming from every side. She couldn’t breathe: blood and smoke were choking her lungs, her vision swimming from the rising heat - or lack of oxygen, she couldn’t be sure which. A Husk ran screeching for her and she threw herself behind some rubble. A weapon. She needed a weapon. In the flash of yet another explosion a wink of reflected light caught her eye. She squinted. A tube of metal, the barrel of a-

  
She threw herself forward, tearing at the mound of rubble, wincing as their jagged edges and burning metal cut into her hands. She finally freed the sniper rifle and set about checking it was functional. There were some scratches on the blue metal, she’d better make sure…

  
She knew this gun. Knew its weight, the way the light bounced off it. Knew the scars etched into the metal and the turian that bore their twin. His rifle... Why was it here? It was rarely far from his side. If it was here, then he was here. But if he was here - he would be using it - and if he wasn’t….

  
She gazed around, squinting through the choking smog and debris. Searching...

  
“GARRUS!” she cried out, answered only by the roar of the inferno.

  
“Shepard.” She could barely make out EDI’s voice through her comm, “Have… get to… beam… establish… link...”

  
The link. She had never felt heavier. With a grieving heart she tore herself away from gazing at the rubble around her for any sign of a blue armored form and began to make her way towards the ribbon of light in the distance.

  
Madly, she moved from the few shadows of cover made available by the debris, thinning the Husks in the distance with the too-heavy sniper rifle in her hands and eliminating the ones that slipped closer with biotic blasts and her omni-blade. She was fading fast. A Marauder made it within striking distance and landed a blow with one of its three-fingered hands to her chest. She felt a sickening crack within her and flew backwards, landing hard upon the crumbling ground. Before she could regain her footing it was on her - its twisted maw roaring as it brought down the killing blow. She pulled her arm in front of her just before the blow landed. Her omni blade sprung into existence, stabbing straight through the Marauder's torso. It let out a garbled shriek and grew still.

  
Panting, drenched in its fluids and her own blood, Shepard hauled the carcass off herself and struggled to her feet. Her side burned. She looked down. Something white and slender, covered in thin streams of blood, protruded from her armor. From beneath her armor. She drew a gargled breath and, in agony, continued towards the beam.

  
That dancing light - she could make out EDI’s silhouette rippling before its brilliance. She was almost there. She picked up her pace, begging her ravaged mortal coil to carry her a little further, just a little further and she would ask no more of it. Nearly there - she could make out the light from EDI’s eyes now, see the AI’s outstretched hand. Shepard extended her own, and then a bloodcurdling, too familiar roar rent the air. A Brute lumbered towards her. Directly in the path between her and EDI and the beam. Between her and an end to this hell.

  
She threw herself behind a protruding slab of concrete - if she could just get around - she’d never have the strength to take it down, but if she could just get past-

  
The concrete behind her exploded, throwing her to the ground. She cried out in pain as she landed upon her exposed rib, gasping for breath, choking on the smoke that instead rushed to fill her lungs. Shadows fell upon her as the hulking bulk of the Brute eclipsed the radiance of the beam. In the distance, EDI shrieked her name.

  
In desperation, Shepard raised the sniper rifle in her arms, squinting through the blood and smoke that choked her vision, training the crosshairs on the Brute mere feet from her now. The shot would have to be perfect. Her breath was ragged; she readied to fire. Snaking forward on that grotesquely elongated neck, the Brute's horned head emerged from the veil of twisting smoke. She fired just as the last tendrils of smoke cleared from its howling, blue-tattooed face - and screamed.

  
* * *

“MORIA!” Her name cut through the echoing of explosions in her ears. Somewhere someone was screaming. Something heavy lay across her. She needed to move, to find cover. It’s heat smothering her, she couldn’t breathe. She pushed the heavy material away, twisting, falling- something caught her arm, another Husk? She fought against it, but it caught her face, drawing it towards- she beat against its chest, trying to get leverage. “MORIA!”

  
Her eyes flew open. The Brute was here, its face before her, horned head against the dark sky - holding - but the fires were gone. She was in a dark space lit by dancing starlight out the window, the air cool against her sweat-drenched, burning skin. The face before her - the blue tattoos - Garrus. Her heart leapt - wonderfully whole, turian Garrus. She could see his mouth moving, saying something - but she couldn’t make it out over the screaming- her screaming.

  
The room quieted as her scream faded into broken sobs.

* * *

“It’s ok, Moria. I’m here. It’s ok. You're safe,” he crooned, gently brushing matted hair back from her sweat-and-tear-drenched face. She was back. He could see it in her eyes; had seen the moment when the terrors of her dream had finally faded enough that she could take in the cabin around her. “It’s ok,” he murmured, “you’re safe. You did it. We’re all safe.” Her chest was still heaving. He could smell the fear, its sharp scent cutting through the lilac and citrus. His heart broke. “It’s ok,” he whispered, his eyes boring into hers, “it’s over, Moria. It’s all over, Moria, I swear” and folded her into his ams.  
It was the fourth night she’d awoken from nightmares on their trip from the Salarian hospital back to Palaven. This time, at least, she hadn’t caught him in the face as she struggled against the unknown horrors in her mind. He’d assured her that the bruise would fade and that he could barely see it behind the blue of his clan tattoos. But he knew she’d seen the shock on the others' faces in the mess the next morning. He only hoped by some miracle his cursedly sharp Commander had missed the silencing looks he’d given each person they encountered and his and Liara’s panicked, whispered conversations.  
He held her at the edge of her - well, their bed, emitting a soft, rumbling vibration from his chest and rocking her gently back and forth. He stroked her matted hair as the sobs gently subsided.

  
He’d tried to wake her as her sleep became restless. When he smelled that bite of fear on her sleeping form- tried to wake her before the screaming started. Tried to spare her voice, now constantly hoarse, and the pride he knew was beginning to strain. But he couldn’t. She wouldn’t wake of any but her own accord. Liara and Tali’s only guess was that her new synthesized brain was perhaps treating dreams as programs… where, without the necessary command, there was no option but to let it play out. He had turned down Liara’s offer to alter Shepard’s sleep with her biotics. He knew Moria wouldn’t be ready for that yet, and that the dependence would scare her as much as the dreams had.

  
He had no idea what she saw in the dark, in the shadows, and to his horror, sometimes in his own face. She wouldn’t talk about it. And he couldn’t bring himself to push her to open up. His dreams were bad enough, full of walls of light he couldn’t follow her through, ice cold five-finger hands, a still chest, and that sickening crack he couldn’t escape. If he, who had seen so many fewer horrors, could barely sleep... he couldn’t fathom how she could when she had endured so much more.

  
She was still shaking, her breathing falling into the staccato panic that sometimes followed. He felt her racing heart begin to sprint against his chest. He stood swiftly, carrying her gently in his arms. He felt her cling to his bare chest, holding tight as if she could somehow escape the world and bury herself forever in his arms. He crossed to the door, it swishing open before him and set off down the dark hall, thanking the spirits he’d fallen asleep still wearing pants.

  
He moved as quickly and quietly as he could along the corridor, praying for distracted crew as he passed the entryways to the mess and engineering. That was the damn problem with space flight. Some part of the crew was awake at all times. You couldn’t really get a damn moment’s privacy. And a crew that was so heavily staffed with curious humans with no sense to shut the hell up and mind their own-

  
“Garrus!” Exclaimed a gunnery sergeant who had just rounded the corner, nearly running into him and the barely clothed Commander of the whole damn ship. “I- what - is,” the sergeant stuttered.

  
Garrus leaned forward and, with his most threatening “I ate your people before they had evolved to use tools” voice (something he had picked up from too much time around Javik), growed “Out of my way now. And this never happened - you never saw this or we will throw you off the ship before reaching Palaven.”

  
He could hear the sergeant’s heart skip a beat and barreled past to the engine room at the end of the hall. With an elbow, he nudged the panel to open the doors and stepped inside.

  
“Out. Now.” he hissed at the few techs on duty, who after a long, intimidating talk the other day, knew the drill. He walked to the end of the platform as they scuttled away. He heard the door sigh closed behind him and released an echoing exhalation of his own.

  
He stopped at the end of the walkway, leaning slightly against the command panel. “It’s ok,” he breathed into her hair, “It’s ok. You’re on the Normandy. You’re safe.” He could still feel her trembling, but he told himself not to panic, and wait. He heard her take a slightly deeper breath, her heartbeat slow by a fraction. Good. For some reason… he didn’t understand why yet, this, the engine room, the one place in the whole ship that was never quiet, was the only place she could sleep. He’d found her curled against the wall by the door two days ago. Fast asleep where she must have been sitting for a time. He’d sat there for three hours… just watching her… entranced by the calmest sleep he’d seen since she woke from her coma in the hospital two weeks ago. He had no idea what had driven her here. A routine task in running the warship? A haunting memory or moment of fatigue? He felt her sigh and loosen a little in his arms. It didn’t matter. He just thanked the stars it worked. “It’s ok, Moria,” he whispered over the steady thrumming of the engines. “Listen… it’s ok… you're home.”


	3. Burnout

Burnout

She knew she looked like shit. The dreams had come again last night, with a vengeance. She could barely look Garrus in the eye as they ate together in the mess, the rest of her crew cheerfully discussing their options for shore leave when they arrived at Palaven. She had done her best to show the usual “Shepard” bravado. Ordered Ash and Vega to get a room in a different building than hers so she didn’t have to hear any of their “recreation,” asked what the best sushi restaurant was, and made comments about taking in the “native scenery” with a pointed, slow scrutiny of Garrus that she swore had actually made him blush. If turians could blush… to her horror, she had learned they could bruise.

  
Once upon a time, once upon a different “Commander Shepard,” she probably wouldn’t have been so casual with her crew. Would have kept her liasons - no, fuck “liasons,” her dating life - more private and encouraged others to do the same. She never would have striven for the uptight (in her opinion), stupid professionalism and lack of… liasing… that she knew other officers expected. These were warriors. All of them. Whether they charged out behind her with a gun or made sure the water-filtration system stayed funcional, they had all faced death day in and day out. And… it was a bunch of mostly humans stuck together in a tin can flying through a vacuum, with things outside (and sometimes inside) that wanted to kill them - spirits knew they needed to take the edge off somehow.

  
“Spirits”… she’d started swearing like him… well… like he did when he thought she was asleep and couldn’t hear him.

  
But trying to keep that “professionalism” in the face of so much death, loss and destruction, to stifle anything that might make someone laugh, feel something other than fear, make someone blush... that pursuit seemed petty now.

  
She felt exhausted at the thought of trying to keep up that bravado when they reached Palaven. Garrus had assured her that she would have a place of honor among turians till the end of time for what she had done to save their planet, not to mention the personal services she had done for the Primarch. He told her that she’d better not worry what they thought. But to be honest, that just felt like more pressure. She had a feeling she might miss being the rogue, back-from-the-dead Spectre everyone thought was crazy, saying that there were monsters hiding under everyone’s bed, rather than the all-saving “Shepard.”

  
Maybe she should just spend a few months on Tuchanka. At least if she threw a fit and yelled “GO AWAY I SAVED YOU ALL I’M TIRED STILL” she would get some begrudging respect for her level of aggression. She had a feeling the same behavior on Palaven would have them looking at her with pursed mandibles and thinking her “primitive.”

  
But she wanted to go back now, for his sake. He tried to play it cool, but she knew he was worried. He never for a moment gave any sign that he wanted to be anywhere but her agonizingly-slowly-healing side. You would think being “synthesized” and full of these little… strands of… something (it was infuriating that no one could tell her what they were) would make you heal fast or some shit like that, but no. The organic part of her stuck with being very organic and patched up at a snail's pace. But she could tell that he felt he urgently needed to get back to Palaven. His father and sister had made it out when the Reapers attacked, barely, but his sister had a broken leg, and the two of them had been very guarded when discussing the health of his mother.

  
Waking up in his arms in the engine room that morning had been like taking a punch to the gut. He must have taken a seat on the floor at some point, back resting against the wall of the control panel. She had awoken to find herself folded in his arms, her cheek against his bare torso, a sheet from her (no… their bed) half tangled around her but still showing far too much of her underwear-clad body. She had no memory of being brought into the engine room, no understanding why he was topless; thank the spirits, at least he was wearing pants. She was mortified. She knew he had found her when she had fallen asleep here earlier this week. She’d woken briefly as he walked down the hall from the engine room, perhaps when she could no longer feel that gentle thrum that surrounded her now.

  
After waking she had just sat there, listening to the slow, strangely soothing beating of his heart. At least he was sleeping. After all these fucking dreams… letting him sleep was the least she could do. He was starting to look like shit too.

  
And oh god, did she look like shit, she thought as she passed a painfully reflective wall panel, as she made her way towards the bridge. An engineer passed her with a respectful nod which she returned with a slight smile. They seemed tense, but thankfully said nothing. Well, maybe that was the upside of dying in universe-saving wars… twice. Your crew were impressed or scared of you enough to avoid commenting when you looked like crap.

  
She snorted to herself. She’d have to tell Anderson to use that strategy the next time he had to deal with all the damn politicians. Maybe they could take some shore leave and she could bring him up to speed over a long night of drinks; although he’d probably drink her under the table, coming from London…

  
The city's name in her head was like a biotic blast to the chest. London. Anderson. Her steps faltered and she grasped the walkway railing with one hand for a moment. Had she really just….was she that stupid? She cursed herself. No, no. There would be no telling Anderson. No seeing that twinkle in his eye behind his Spartan countenance; no hearing him grumble dryly, “I knew it was a bad idea letting them make you a Spectre.” The pain at that thought was… heavy, as if his absence left yet another mantle of responsibility on her already straining shoulders. Well, she would just have to settle for giving him something interesting to watch from wherever he was now… if he even could.

  
She neared the helm and heard EDI and Joker laughing up ahead. Now that was a sound she would never tire of. Garrus thought EDI’s laugh had become eerily human since the synthesis, but Shepard thought it had become delightfully human. She owed the AI an eternal debt of gratitude for what she’d done - not to mention the fact that it meant that Shepard wasn’t the only one changed in ways that no one could understand.

  
“Hey Shepard!” called Joker as she drew level with them, “Ash told me you were asking for sushi recommendations on Palaven. I’m really sorry but I have something super important to do at the exact time you’re going, so you’ll have to find someone else to be your decoy this time - I mean date.”

  
At hearing this, EDI began to - no… really? Yep, Shepard wasn’t seeing things - the AI had just rolled her eyes at their pilot.

  
“Joker continues to think that any kind of combat training, including simple target practice, is a terrible idea,” she said. “Despite Garrus’ and my recommendations.”

  
“Look,” chided Joker, “I have lived through all these disasters as a pilot. No way am I messing up my survival streak with this one still around and wreaking havoc.” He grinned at Shepard, “With all due respect Commander, I for one think the galaxy would actually be a whole lot safer and quieter if you would stay dead one of these days.”

  
Her lip twitched. Things would suck without Joker. It would be a hell of a lot harder to deal with all this without him: someone who knew when she couldn’t take any more gentle voices, respectful nods, or awe-filled stares and instead needed a good old ribbing. Needed to feel human for a few minutes.

  
“I’ll take your feedback into consideration, Lieutenant Moreau.” Shepard said dryly.

  
“If you want a quieter galaxy, you should accompany her on a mission, Jeff,” EDI offered. “Your lack of cross training is probably the most efficient way to get her killed.”

  
“Ha, ha, ha,” he shot back at her.

  
“Well, Lieutenant,” Shepard asked, “Are we still on schedule for our arrival on Palaven? Or have you drifted several days off-course while griping about your untenable world-saving workload?”

  
EDI snorted. Now even that one surprised Shepard.

  
“No, Commander. We are on schedule, Ma’am.” he answered. She cringed despite herself. She was fine with that usually, but it never sounded right coming from Joker. “Although, we’ve had a message from Tali.”

“Oh?”

  
“Yeah, she was wondering if there was any way we could make a stop on Rannoch on our way to Palaven.” Shepard frowned. “She said she had something she wanted to discuss with you and Liara in person about the… Reapers settlement.” His voice tensed as he mentioned the Reapers. She had shared her full account of what happened on the Crucible with the closer members of her crew after they picked her and Garrus up from Sur'Kesh and began their current journey. It had been a long night and somehow, despite being in a private room of a Salarian bar, there hadn’t seemed to be enough alcohol. Joker, despite being obviously horrified by the option to destroy all higher functioning synthetics and the ramifications that would have had for EDI, still seemed very distrustful of the idea of giving intellectual freedom to the Reapers. She didn’t blame him. The damage they had wreaked on Earth’s surface had been horrifying, but she heard several people, even Garrus, say that the carnage in the skies, Reapers ripping through dreadnaughts like they were made of paper, was like nothing he had ever seen before. And Joker had been in the heart of that maelstrom the whole time.

  
“Did it sound urgent?” she asked. She hated the thought of Garrus waiting longer to see his family.

  
“From her tone… yeah.” he sighed. She wondered if, underneath all his blustering, he was as worn out as she was. Garrus had talked about retiring on a beach. But you needed to be able to breathe on your own and walk on your own to go to a beach, and that had taken her a while. Then there were questions to answer, and people to check in on and… oh well. She’d never spent much time on beaches. Maybe she’d have hated sand and it would have been a waste of time.

  
“Alright,” she said. “I’m going to check in with Garrus, see if he thinks we can spare the time.” She started towards the back of the ship, “Don’t have too much fun, you two,” she called back over her shoulder. “Moreau, you have the bridge.”

  
As her footsteps rang on the walkway she heard poorly restrained laughter and grumbling.

  
“You got Moreau’d” sniggered EDI.

  
“Yeah well you-”

  
“Twice!”

  
“Shut up!”

* * *

“The engine room?” Liara asked incredulously. Garrus rubbed his eyes and squinted at the equations he had been pretending to try and pay attention to. He should really just throw in the towel. He was only kidding himself at this point.

  
“Yeah…” he sighed. “Two nights in a row now. So I guess that’s progress.”

  
Liara gave him a long, disparaging look. She pushed off the wall of the main battery where she had been leaning and took a step towards him.

  
“I’ll talk to her about assisting with her sleep,” she said.

  
“No. We’re not there yet.” He sighed.

  
“I don’t think that’s your call to make,” she said softly.

  
He closed his eyes, shook his head to clear it and continued after a deep breath, “I… look, that’s not what I meant. She’s proud.” He fixed his eyes on Liara. “You know she is. Do you really think she wants to be asked that now? When who the hell knows who is going to want to meet with her when we get to Palaven?”

  
She frowned. “All the more reason for her to actually be getting rest on the way there.”

  
Garrus felt trapped. “Maybe we put a cot in there...”

  
Liara snorted. “Oh, so having everyone on the ship knowing-”

  
“We could hide it and when she’s ready to go to sleep-”

  
“What? Have her sneak into the engine room? That’s better for her pride than biotic assistance?”

  
“I don’t know, ok? I’ve had as much time to work on this problem as you have!” he snapped.

  
“And I’m telling you I have a better solution for her,” she retorted.

  
Garrus could feel his irritation growing. “And why exactly do you think you know what is going to be better for her?” he growled.

  
“Because I actually-” she stopped herself and let out a long, suffering breath.

  
Garrus raised his brows, leaning forward on the console with his forearms, fingers laced before him to prevent them becoming fists. He forced nonchalance and drawled, “Oh? Because you actually what?”

  
Liara just stared at him coldly.

  
“What?” he pressed, his temper getting the better of him. “Come on, what were you about to say?”

  
“It’s not important.”

  
“Really?” he stood up, crossing his arms, “Because I’m pretty sure we were just fighting about how to best protect and help the Commander of this ship and the person who just saved the whole damn galaxy... and whatever it was you were about to say seemed to be the crux of your argument for your recommended course of action… so I’m pretty sure it’s at least a little noteworthy.”

  
“It’s not.”

  
“Then we go with the cot.”

  
“Are you really making jokes about this?” she scowled.

  
“A little humor can’t hurt.”

  
Liara shook her head. “A little humor? She’s having traumatic night terrors and you’re cracking jokes-”

  
“Don’t you judge me! I’m the one watching her wake up screaming-” he snarled.

  
“Oh poor you!” she bit back. “If it's so hard on your precious sleep then let me-”

  
“Liara, that dependance is going to crush her-”

  
“How do you know until you ask-”

  
“Because I know her-”

  
“NO YOU DON’T.”

  
It was his turn to go silent, to freeze as the anger coiled within him. “Is that what you were going to say? ‘Because I actually know her?’ Better than I do? Is that it?” He could feel his head pounding.

  
Her jaw was tight. “You two had one fling nearly a year ago and now a few months of-”

  
“But your fling years ago makes you the expert-”

  
“It wasn’t a fling,” she hissed. “I was completely invested-”

  
“But was she?” He cut back. Liara’s face stilled. Damn. He… he knew it had been a low blow… he was just so-

  
“At least it didn’t take her dying the first time for me to notice her.”

  
Cold outrage filled him, but also a whisper of fear, or regret. She seemed to sense it and laughed bitterly.

  
“Incredible.” She walked towards the door but stopped before it, not even bothering to look at him, like somene taking a shot there was no way they could miss; someone who knew there was no outcome besides the bullet finding the mark. Quietly, she added, “and I never would have waited to further things with her. Not if there was even one chance that we might not have much time.”

  
She tapped the panel on the wall and the doors slid open. Good, he thought. Leave. Leave him to do something useful and distract him from the all-to-real fears she had mocked. But to his frustration she closed the panel and looked at him, this time with the barest trace of pity, which actually pissed him off more.

  
“She needs sleep, Garrus.” she said, her first words without venom in a while. “And so do you.”

  
“I sleep fine.” He growled.

  
“No you don’t.” He opened his mouth to retort but before he could, she added, “And I know you don’t because I’ve been sitting outside her cabin doors at night, and I can feel you lying there watching her,” she sighed. It did nothing to dispel the air of tension in the room. Her pity deepened, “and you said that you're the one who’s ‘watching her wake up screaming.’”

  
The doors to the battery snapped open and Shepard stared at them. “Did I miss something about a meeting?” she asked dryly.

  
“Ah - no, we -” stammered Garrus.

  
“You sure? I’ve been sleeping like shit, it’s totally gonna make me miss something. I need to see Chakwas or someone about it later…”

  
“No,” Liara said smoothly, stepping past Shepard, “Garrus was having some trouble with his calculations.” She gave him a meaningful look. “...but I was just able to show him he was wrong.” And with that she left, sealing the door behind her. Garrus seethed silently. He’d have to see if the shooting range had a blue practice dummy.

  
Shepard gazed at the closed portal for a moment, looking perplexed, “Ok,” she said at last, then crossed to him. “Garrus, I wanted to ask you something.”

  
“Anything for you, Shepard.” he said, forcing the damned asari from his mind and focusing on the woman before him. Damn, she looked more tired than she had been earlier that morning.

  
She smiled at him, then grew serious. “I know that we were trying to get back to Palaven as quickly as we could to check on your family. But… we just got a message from Tali. She needs Liara and I for something on Rannoch. I think it has something to do with the Reapers, and Joker said it sounded urgent.”

  
The Reapers... of course she’d have to deal with them even now. His chest was tight but he purred mischievously. “Commander, you flatter a grunt like me by coming here, but our headings are your call.”

  
“You’re pretty, but don’t think you’re that important,” she said, smacking his arm lightly, then adding seriously, “I just know you’re worried about them and it's been a while since we had any news.”

  
His heart warmed at her concern. “They’re Vakarians, Shepard. We’re hard to kill. Haven’t you dragged me through hell enough to learn that yet?”

  
“Clearly not,” she laughed, “Guess we’ll have to keep getting into trouble till it sinks in. But seriously, you’re sure?”

  
“Yeah,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It’ll be fine. Besides… Reapers.... who else are they going to call.....”

  
She groaned and rolled her eyes, then squinted at the calibrations on the screen. “So you really needed math help from Liara?”

  
“No!” He snapped, before he could help himself, “Uh- well- she was exaggerating.” Yeah, he had definitely seen a blue target practice dummy in the back of a locker somewhere….  
“Oh my god, you did!” she teased, “Wow, you must be more worn out than I am.” She squinted at him. “You look like shit, Vakarian. I’ve learned by now turians can blush and bruise but I didn’t know you could get eyebags too.” He growled at her. “You’re lucky I like scars so much.”

  
That was it. He grabbed her and pinned her to the wall.

  
“Really, Shepard?” he breathed. “Well, then let’s take a look everywhere and see who has more….”

  
The light dancing in her eyes made his mouth dry. He pushed away his worries and the small, self-conscious voice Shepard had just woken up, and focused on her... although, it was a bit of a struggle. Did she really have to go there? He knew he looked like shit.


	4. Rebirth

The starlight winked off the hairlike strands that crisscrossed Moria’s form. Light dancing across them with each of her sleeping breaths. He knew they made her uncomfortable, but Garrus thought they were beautiful. He thought they were like a new scar. Just another line that told the story of the bravery of the young woman who slept next to him.

  
Her breathing quickened and he saw her brow, lit by the gentle starlight, crease. Her body tensed and she rolled away from him. Shit. It was happening again. He leaned towards her, gently stroking her hair and back. “Moria.” he whispered. “Shh… Moria, it’s ok.”

  
She rolled over again, face twisted as if in pain. He shook her gently by the shoulder this time.

  
“Moria, it’s just a dream. You need to wake up.” She let out a soft moan. “Moria.” His heart was pounding now too. “Moria, it’s ok, wake up.” He called gently, but she was already beyond his reach.

  
* * *

She was everywhere at once. It was as if she was the sunlight cast across the vastness of the ocean: each ripple, wave, undulation of the currents shining in her light - their change part of her. She could feel every hydraulic shift of the geth’s frames, each bit of code in communication with their hardware, and the software of the others across the galaxy. But there was more... she could feel the rapid firing of synapses in every organic tissue and the electrical impulses answering in the synthetic structures woven through them. Feel the nanobots within a quarian bloodstream detect an infection, feel it relaying with the organic cells to create a response. She could feel the effortless breathing of that quarian, feel her joy as she braided her daughter’s hair. Feel the whisper of the fingers through the little girl’s scalp as if it were her own. She was part of every life form, felt them shift, grow, change, felt the constant exchange of knowledge and compassion as if it was an all-encompassing, sparkling network that consisted of her very being.

  
She heard the Conduit’s voice in her head. “The chain reaction will combine all synthetic and organic life into a new framework. A new… DNA.” There was no way to tell if it was a memory or truly there. When everything was connected, everything in perfect balance, memory and present blurred. The past had no meaning, no power, when all information was available, shared at any given point. “Synthesis is the final evolution of life, but we need each other to make it happen.”

  
There was a light her awareness had always been particularly drawn to…. Blue armor flowed seamlessly into a once-scarred carapace. The areas that had once been scored with scar tissue now shone with synthetic chitin that gradually dissipated into the natural growth of exoskeleton like a trail of stars. Wires and hydraulics were braided through the creature’s musculature, lending it power beyond its already imposing biology. Thin strands of green light wove in and out of his skin and the other synthetic structures and a green light shone in his eyes.

  
The voice she could hear shifted. Now it was cold, calculating, with a familiar spine chilling rasp. A name came to her mind… Saren. “The relationship is symbiotic, organic and machine intertwined, a union of flesh and steel…”

  
She was in the blue armored turian now; every thought, every heartbeat, part of her. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. She saw Garrus’ brow furrow. Frustration filled his body. He had seen Joker and EDI laughing earlier. As he thought their names, their faces flashed in the tissue and wire monstrosity that was now his brain. He could feel their heartbeats. Suddenly, a part of his subconscious, the warrior mind always on alert, instantly picked out four places where a simple blow to the human’s genetically weakened bones would result in a terminal injury. He felt something in his mind run a secondary scan and confirmed that three of the blows would still result in a terminal injury despite the synthetics lending the human new skeletal support. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He moved out into the hall. He could see Liara ahead. Good, he needed her- maybe she could help him learn to control the lightning fast interplay of his thoughts and his mechanically enhanced body.

  
His vision changed, unbidden: crosshairs appeared before him, locked on the back of the asari’s head. The measurable distance between the two of them flashed before his eyes, as well as statistics for when he, or a bullet, would reach her at his current speed and trajectory. No, he thought, panic filling him. In response, the armor woven in and out of his skin opened up and a rifle began to unfold from the twisting wires and chitin. His panic grew: no, no!

  
The turian’s distress filled Shepard. She heard that voice again… ”The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither…”

  
Shepard watched as Garrus cursed and turned down a different hall, but this thing he had once called his brain and body did not stop. It tracked Liara’s heat signal and began calibrating the firepower necessary to punch through the walls between them. No! He hated this. He had to stop it. Anger and pain rose within him.

  
Shepard. Shepard had done this to him. To all of them. He felt his left eye begin to move of its own accord, tracking Liara - a hollow display flashing into his sight before it. NO! He slammed a hand over his eye, trying to block it, to control it…

  
“The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither…”

  
Garrus groaned in effort as his form continued to prepare to terminate Liara. Shepard. It was all her fault. She... how could she have let this happen to him? To all of them?

  
“…a vision of the future…”

  
She had betrayed them. Every single living thing. Betrayed him, and made him this monster webbed all over with these green strands, with eyes that gleamed with an ever-present mechanical light.

  
“... the evolution of all organic life….”

  
A countdown flashed before his eyes and the monstrosity on his arm swiveled to point to the wall behind him.

  
“....this is our destiny…”

  
NO! He began tearing at his face, the small talons on the end of his fingers digging painfully into the wiring and flesh. If he could stop it… tear that countdown away; tear that traitorous eye from its socket. He roared in pain, his hands wet, blue blood spilling down his face…

  
”A true rebirth…"

* * *

“MORIA!” Her face stung. Her wrists were trapped within his hands. That screaming? It was back again. The cabin was full of a strange green light. A turian face full of concern was before her, bearing familiar tattoos, eyes glinting with green light.

  
“No!” She cried out, the screams going silent as soon as she said the word. She pushed the turian away, tumbling to the floor.

  
“Fuck, Moria!” the turian cried. Her head spun; she tried to get up. Suddenly the room filled with light. There was a bed, a desk, a couch. Her cabin. Garrus crossed slowly to her from the lightswitch. She was shaking but the screaming was gone. He took her face gently in his hands; it stung at his delicate touch. She stared into his eyes. They were full of worry, but blessedly empty of that green light. She looked down at herself. The light had been coming from her. The strands all across her were glowing softly. In the dark, the light must have been reflected in his eyes. Her hands were covered in blood-

  
A wave of nausea hit her and she dashed to the bathroom, throwing up the toilet seat and heaving. She was shaking and the vomiting continued. She felt Garrus come crouch behind her, his hands gently pulled back her hair and he began murmuring softly. As she slowly came out of the haze of the nightmare, she heard him mutter something about a barette. Her face still stung.

  
She pushed him away, heaved herself to standing at the sink and saw her reflection. The left side of her face was red with blood and scratched skin. She looked at her hands: they were bloody and she could see small bits of her own flesh under her nails. The threads and her eyes were still glowing softly and she could see some of the deeper strands in the gouges of her face gleaming too.

  
“What…” she croaked, turning to Garrus.

  
She had never seen him looking so worried.

  
“You… you were having a nightmare… and… and then you started tearing at your face.” He whispered. “I tried to stop you but you kept fighting me.” He took a ragged breath. “Moria, what were you seeing?”

  
Moria opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.

  
“Is it what happened on the Citadel?”

  
She tried to take a deep breath. “I… not… not this time.”

  
He frowned. “Are… are you having nightmares about your choice?”

  
She nodded.

  
“Moria, you can’t regret your decision. You sacrificed everything-”

  
“It wasn’t that…” she stammered. “I don’t … I don’t regret it, but… I keep seeing what would have happened if I’d made a different choice.” She was crying now, the salt of her tears making her face sting. “I hate this. This…” she felt supid saying it. “This is so unfair, Garrus.”

  
“I know,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “It’s going to be ok. We’ll be on Rannoch in a few hours. You’ll be able to see the people you saved. The geth that have a home - have a real life - because of your choice.”

  
The geth… she remembered the feeling of being connected to them from the nightmare. Was that what was haunting her? That without EDI she would have chosen to save them and the Reapers - forcing all the people she loved - forcing Garrus to-

  
The door to her cabin slid open and a tired looking Dr. Chakwas stepped inside, sparing her from reliving Garrus’ monstrous transformation. Chakwas let out a low whistle when her eyes fell on Shepard.

  
“Shit Vakarian. You weren’t joking.” she grumbled.

  
“Hey,” croaked Shepard, “I thought doctors were supposed to control their reactions.”

  
“And I thought patients were supposed to stay dead.” Chakwas returned, and added, while checking Shepard’s left eye with a small light, “you’re dragging us all into new territory Shepard, and we’re just trying to keep up as best we can.”

  
“So he called you?” Shepard said, nodding to Garrus.

  
“I took the liberty while you were emptying your stomach,” he said. She scowled at him. “Listen Shepard, you’re supposed to be meeting my family in a few days. I can’t let you show up there with more scars than me. My sister will never let me hear the end of it.”

  
“That ship has sailed, my turian friend.” Chakwas said with a chuckle. “I have attended extensively to both of you self-preservation-less idiots, and this one has more scars than you... and in places you would never imagine.”

  
“Ha, I win.” Shepard winced as Chakwas applied a salve to her raw face.

  
“That is not something to be proud of, Shepard.” Chakwas chided.

  
Garrus mouthed “show off” behind Chakwas’ back.

  
“Well that ought to do it.” Chakwas said, stepping back and looking Shepard’s face over. “Those should actually be cleared up in a few days. Since your transformation you’ve been recovering from superficial damage faster than normal.”

  
“I have?” Shepard asked with a frown. She winced as her face stung again.

  
“Yes you have. I’m not sure yet if your transformation only has the strength to repair minor damage or if it hasn’t yet had the time to develop the full extent of its capabilities.”  
“You keep saying ‘transformation.’” Garrus murmured.

  
“Yes,” Chakwa said mildly. “Well, we don’t have any idea what exactly happened to her and certainly don’t have a scientific term for it.” She looked at Shepard with a soft smile. “But she is completely changed.”

  
“Not completely.” Shepard said softly. She felt a little panicked at Chakwas’ words. “I’m still just me.” As if on cue, the green light in her eyes and the strands finally faded, leaving only their faint silver trace behind.

  
Chakwas gave her a commiserating smile. “Yes… and so much more.”

* * *

Rannoch’s sands crunched beneath Shepard’s boots. It felt good to move, to get off the Normandy, to leave her cabin and the nightmares behind. It was hard for the dark to cling to her here in the bright sun and warm wind. They neared a tent at the edge of the quarian settlement that had sprung up in the months since Rannoch had been reclaimed. They had flown to the southern continent, the area the quarians had chosen as the birthplace of their new civilization because of its rich farmland. The Normandy had landed on a beach where the sparkling waters mirrored the gleaming towers of the growing quarian capital. Shepard could see that the large bay where it sat would be a strong defensive position, the waters making it nearly impossible for them to be flanked by ground troops from at least one side. The bay would doubtless be an excellent food resource, and the quarians could easily fish for… whatever Rannoch’s version of fish was. She hoped desperately that in the coming years the bay’s primary value would prove to be the latter and not the former.

  
“Shepard!” A familiar hooded figure dashed towards them from the shadows of the tent and thudded into her with a hug. Shepard hugged the quarian back, cautious of the tubes and wires of her suit. “Keelah Se'lai, it is good to see you in-” she leaned back and cocked her head to the side upon seeing Shepard’s now scabbed and slightly red face. “Well, I was going to say ‘in one piece,’ But I guess I’ll have to settle for… mostly one piece.”

  
Shepard cringed mentally. Fuck, she was going to get no end of questions about this. She should have put off their landing for a few days, said they had other things to do or made up something about not wanting an infection to spread… she cursed herself. Normally she would never have cared if she had a visible injury. Sometimes she preferred it. Especially with politicians and civilians. Sometimes it seemed like they needed to see a little dried blood to remember what was actually important and what most of her job entailed. But after the war, after being in the hospital for so long, the idea of someone, especially the heads of the other races thinking she was… soft… still recovering… weak… that terrified her.

  
“Shepard got bored on the way here.” Garrus rumbled from behind her, “It’s been too long since she had an opportunity to bang some heads together. So when we heard a distress signal from a refugee ship she jumped on the chance to put some pirates on the business end of her fists.” Garrus lied smoothly as he stood next to her, arms crossed. “I’d say you should see the other guys but they don’t have faces anymore because I…” He bumped Shepard purposefully with his hip, “got the kill shots.” Shepard scowled at him and he grinned back, clearly pleased at how thoroughly he had her trapped on this one.

  
Tali snorted. “I should have known.” she grumbled. “Liara,” she said, hugging the asari and then EDI who had both caught up with them, “I would have thought that after everything you would be keeping these two idiots out of trouble.”

  
“Oh, I’m trying,” Liara said dryly. “But Goddess knows Shepard does what she wants.” She shot a pointed look at Garrus, “And this one doesn’t listen to anyone. At least Grunt, Wrex, Javik and Zaeed weren’t with them.”

  
Tali shook her head as she began walking with the visitors back towards the tent. “I’m thinking about adding a special line in our charters specifying that only three of you troublemakers are allowed on my planet at a time. Otherwise we will never finish rebuilding with the mess you lot always find a way to make.”

  
“I for one promise to behave so long as you feed me.” Garrus said. “Please tell me you’ve had enough time to get something going rather than nutripaste? If I have to eat another prepackaged dextrose meal…”

  
“You’re in luck, my friend.” she said, her voice full of joy. “Agrotec domes were the first structures we established. You can’t very well create a new home if you have hungry workers. And…” she added mischievously. “...some of the Admirals thought it was not a priority, but I brought a few of them around….” She paused for effect and Garrus raised his brow expectantly. “...we have vineyards my friend….”

  
Garrus’ eyes gleamed. “Isn’t that something. Well, it's understandably too early for there to be a harvest, but you can be sure that before we head to Palaven I’ll be leaving behind plenty of credits for some bottles of your first vintage. This turian is very interested in helping Rannoch wine find it’s foothold in the galactic marketplace. With the Migrant fleet declaring that distilling non-medicinal alcohol as illegal, the dextros options are pretty limited, and I’m sick of only being able to order turian hard stuff.”

  
“What, too strong for you, Garrus?” Tali teased.

  
He grinned, “I’m not going to answer that directly, but even turians like to drink for pleasure rather than just a painful next morning.”

  
“Well…” Tali said, “If you can spare the time... maybe I can see if Auntie Raan has some old bottles of contraband quarian cordial somewhere.” She lowered her voice a little, “Don’t tell the other Admirals, but my Mother always told me that she was a bit of a party krogan before and even during her pilgrimage. Speaking of which….”

  
They had reached the tent by now and could see the other quarians who had been working with Tali in its shade.

  
“Shepard vas Normandy,” Tali said, extending a three fingered hand towards the others. “I believe you have all met before, actually, during my… trial…” Shepard could tell by the tone in her voice that the time Tali had been accused of treason was still a sore spot for the young quarian.

  
“Admiral Shala'Raan vas Rannoch, Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh.” Shepard recognized Tali’s aunt and the female Admiral she and Legion had once met. “ and Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib.”

  
Shepard heard Garrus snort at the last name and she swiftly elbowed him in the ribs. She felt smug as she heard him take a rather sharp inhalation. During the less… intimate… ”physical therapy” Garrus had insisted he oversee as part of her recovery, she had actually found a spot in turian armor where you could get some results from the application of well directed kinetic energy. After the first time she had succeeded in landing a blow there (and he had recovered from having the wind knocked out of him) he had sworn at her and said he would be scheduling a meeting with the turian Advanced Research Projects Agency about this ridiculous oversight in their design. He said she also needed to make herself even more impressive by coming back from the dead again so that the whole turian species didn’t die from the shame of learning that a human had found a flaw in their armor. 

  
Shepard thought she saw Admiral Qwib-Qwib’s spine straighten and she was briefly very glad that so little of quarian facial expressions were visible through their masks.  
“It is good to see you again Shepard.” Admiral Raan said, coming forward to shake Shepard’s hand. Shepard was touched by the quarian instigating the very human custom. The other Admirals merely nodded.

  
“I see salarian medicine isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” scoffed Admiral Xen upon seeing Shepard’s face. “It has been months since Tali returned from escorting you to their hospitals. I would have thought they would have fixed up the cosmetic damage by now.”

  
“You are mistaken, Admiral Xen,” Tali cut in before Shepard could say anything. “The salarians’ medicine worked so well that Shepard had already been able to help save refugees.” She nodded to Shepard. “The Commander does us a great honor by taking the time to come here when there are still those out there who need her.”

  
Shepard tried not to blush. Great. Between Garrus and Tali, the “Savior Shepard” persona was really going to get out of hand. She shrugged, feigning disinterest in the praise.  
“If the ‘Great Shepard’...” Please spirits let that not be a thing “...has so much work to do, she should be leaving the other races to their own matters rather than flying all over just to back up her friends.” Admiral Xen sneered pointedly at Tali.

  
Excellent, Shepard was getting to stumble into the middle of a political mess. That was her favorite thing. Maybe she should have just stayed on the ship with her nightmares.  
“Actually,” cut in Admiral Qwib-Qwib, “I am the one who requested Tali contact Shepard so that she could weigh in on these matters, seeing as she is the one we owe for the privilege of walking our homeworld again.”

  
Admiral Xen shifted contemptuously. “Of course you were.”

  
“Are you two done dishonoring the fleet in front of our visitors?” asked Admiral Raan dryly. The others quieted begrudgingly, “Welcome, Liara T'soni. We are eager for your opinion in the matters at hand as well.”

  
“Yes,” Liara said, “Tali’s message said as much. Although, I am a bit perplexed myself. I was not heavily versed in geth technologies and know little that would assist in your rebuilding.”

  
“But your expertise in ancient life forms as an archaeologist is now invaluable,” Admiral Raan said gently, “Especially as we are now in a world where we have the minds of the ancients living within the Reapers’ powerful forms.”

  
“Oh, I suppose you are correct.” Liara said, “I actually did not see any Reapers upon our descent.”

  
“The ones that have chosen to inhabit these areas and work with us are probably around the far east side of the bay” Tali said. She laughed softly, “The surf is rough there and they seem to enjoy playing in the water.”

  
“Playing in the water?” Garrus asked incredulously.

  
“I know,” Tali said. “It was a shock to us as well when we first saw it, but I don’t know how else to describe it. They drag their arms in the water as if they are kicking at the waves like our children do.” She shook her head incredulously.

  
“It is possible,” said EDI, “That the Reapers showing this behavior house the consciousnesses of aquatic or aquatic-proximal species. If I was such a species but no longer had my original form I could imagine such sentimental behavior being of great comfort.”

  
“I thought you had just brought a VI assistant,” Admiral Xen said, stepping towards EDI as if to give her a thorough examination, “but….is this the illegal Cerberus AI?”

  
There was a hunger in her voice that Shepard didn’t trust. Shepard stepped between EDI and the far too curious quarian, staring down at the shorter female, and said coldly. “No. This is EDI and she is a member of my crew.” Through the quarian’s fogged mask Shepard could see the Admiral’s brows raise.

  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, EDI.” she said mildly, taking a step back. “I hope we can become… more acquainted.” Shepard still didn’t like her tone.

  
“I would be happy to come to know other quarian personally. From my work with Admiral vas Normandy I have developed deep interest in your rich culture.” EDI said brightly. Shepard sighed mentally. For all her surprisingly human behaviours, EDI clearly had more to learn about knowing when to trust someone and when to stay very far away from people who likely wanted to open you up to see how you worked.

  
“If you have an AI as part of your crew you clearly believe them to have opinions that are of value.” Admiral Qwib-Qwib said with a pointed look at Admiral Xen.

  
“Zaal’Korvis.” Admiral Raan said disapprovingly. “Are you really going to bend Shepard’s words to your argument when our guests landed only minutes ago? Before she has had a chance to see our progress here or, Ancestors forbid, have a refreshment?”

  
“No, no” Admiral Qwib-Qwib said, then added too eagerly, “But if she understands the matter at hand, her evaluation of the progress we have made and how the geth and Reapers have been working with us will be much more informed.”

  
“I thank you for your respect and concern, Admiral Raan,” Shepard said, “But our journey to Palaven was being made with some haste, and your issue here is clearly of great concern to all involved. I never mind being brought into the loop sooner rather than later. However,” she added, “If the geth are involved and you have not…” she chose the next words carefully “abandoned your aim to coexist here with them and wasted their pledge to honor Legion’s sacrifice, shouldn’t the geth be part of this conversation?”

  
“They have been, Shepard.” Tali assured her firmly. “We actually wanted your input on two issues the geth’s leader and the Reapers brought to us. Issues they are hoping we will assist them with.”

  
“Oh,” said Shepard, hoping her relief was not too evident. She didn’t need to be asleep to be haunted by one of the things the Crucible had said to her. The thing that worried and exhausted her everywhere she went. She could almost hear its eerie young voice now…

  
“...the peace will not hold…”

  
“And those are?” Shepard asked, shaking the doubt from her mind.

  
“The Reapers have requested that we begin calling them something else.” Admiral Qwib-Quib answered. “The geth have told us that the consciousnesses within them are uncomfortable with being called by the same names as the creatures that slaughtered them.”

  
Reapers. With feelings. Would things ever stop getting stranger, Shepard wondered?

  
Admiral Xan snorted. “I can’t believe we are talking about this. Consciousness is just another type of programming. Would you stop calling a computer a computer just because you changed the software you were using?”

  
“Yes, I would.” said EDI. The quarians all froze. They had forgotten that she was listening, Shepard observed. They had talked about things that related to her as if she was not there, something Shepard had seen happen frequently in her time with the AI. It was something she and the rest of the crew were trying to curtail in their behavior. “Especially if it expressed the request for a new name.”

  
“Well -” spluttered Admiral Xen. Shepard had a smug suspicion that EDI’s words had made the quarian’s jaw hit the floor of her mask. “They are still Reapers. The whole galaxy knows them as such. We watched them attack all forms of life for months. Organic life isn’t just going to be able to forget that and start cheerily calling them by a new name.”  
“Isn’t that exactly why the Reapers would want to be called something else?” Tali pressed. “So that they can begin to build their own legacy and associations? So they are freed from at least one piece of baggage?”

  
“Names are powerful things,” added Admiral Raan. “Admiral vas Normady speaks wisely. She, who was once stripped of vas Neema, and has brought great pride to quarians as Vas Normandy, would know this well.”

  
“Not that I disagree with the Reapers being called something new, but a name is also what you make of it.” added Admiral Qwib-Qwib. Of course you would say that, Shepard thought. They looked to Shepard.

  
She sighed. “I can honestly see both sides,” she said. “That’s something I have to think about.” Admiral Xen let out an impatient sigh but the others nodded respectfully. “It’s obviously something that would have to be shared with the Council and the other races.”

  
“As would the other issue.” Tali said tensely.

  
“Which is?” Shepard asked.

  
“The geth are eager to make strides to maintain peace with the quarians, and all organic life.” Admiral Qwib-Qwib said. “They are one of our primary assets for communication with the Reapers here, and have said that the consciousnesses within them have no desire for conflict either. They want to exist in peace with all of us as equals.”

  
“Well that’s a relief.” Shepard said, something inside her unclenching a fraction. When she had heard that Tali wanted to see her and Liara about the Reapers, she… she had been so sure the news would be bad. “I don’t see how that’s something that would have to go to the Council.”

  
“To them,” Admiral Raan said, “the idea of synthetic beings being treated as equals is paramount. And so...” she said softly “...they have requested that one of them be added to the Council.”

  
Shepherd's heart sank. She stood there with her mouth open and had no idea what to say. She needn't have worried, it turned out, as Garrus, her extremely eloquent partner, summed up her feelings perfectly.

  
“Shit.”

* * *

“Sothaaa ents er tuherary” Garrus remarked through a mouthful of food. Tali and Shepard both stared at him in confusion. “Tharr tuh-her-er-eee.” He clarified, his mouth just as full as it had been before.

  
“Swallow your damn food. Then talk.” Shepard ordered the turian, taking his chewing silence as an opportunity to shake her head at Tali and add, “And he’s worried about me meeting his family on Palaven.”

  
Garrus finally swallowed his mouthful of flatbread and marinated vegetation and, understandable at long last, said, “I was asking if the tents were temporary.”

  
“Most likely.” Tali said as they continued down one of the tent-in-question lined streets of the settlement. “We are still sleeping in the ships that have landed or in the large dormitories we have erected. It is just more secure for our suits. It's a lot easier to notice a problem with them when you are awake. Eventually we will have permanent storefronts in most places, but for now it’s helpful for morale and our economies for people to have a place to wander and trade freely.

  
“Many of us find it sentimentally powerful as well.” Tali continued. “The ‘migrant’ aspect of our fleets’ name has always been a source of pride and historical value for us. Centuries before we established space flight and long before we were exiled from Rannoch, many quarians thrived in nomadic settlements. We have beautiful carvings and tapestries that depict the tent cities that would spring up overnight and then disappear as if they had never been there.”

  
She smiled as they continued their way through the bustling lane, quarians carrying everything from food, to scraps of metal, to bolts of intricately woven cloth past them. “A lot of us find it fitting as the first stage of reclaiming our home.”

  
“I’m surprised how much art and other cultural wares I’m seeing.” Garrus muttered through a mouth that was still scandalously full of food.

  
Tali laughed. “Of course you are.” She nudged him gently with an elbow. “Turians might be voluntarily focused on duty, necessity and sacrifice, but quarians haven’t had a choice about prioritizing those values in generations. There’s not time for much else when you have to carry everything necessary for life with you and constantly replenish supplies. Having a chance to re-learn a more free way of life, to be creative for creativity’s sake, is essential.”

  
“But is it really that essential this early in rebuilding?” he pushed back.

  
“Of course. The strongest civilizations have thriving arts and sciences. Look at the salarians and asari.”

  
“Are you suggesting that turians aren’t a strong civilization?” Shepard asked, genuinely curious.

  
“Their military might is undeniable,” Tali said, “but apart from the human appointment, which, let's be honest, would never have happened this soon if it wasn’t for you, Shepard, turians are the most recent race to be admitted to the Council. And that says something.”

  
Garrus was quiet for a moment but as she took in the throng of life around her she could swear she heard him mutter “...not our fault it took so long…”

  
The thriving quarian culture around her was remarkable, especially when she thought back to her time on their austere, worn, and in some places scraped together ships. But here they were making art, music and even, to Garrus’ delight, food. Tali had explained that while they still needed to be cautious about infections and that it would take years for their immune systems to adjust, incorporating unprocessed Rannoch-grown food was actually an important part of that process.

  
Most of the food stalls they passed were stewing different soups or ramen-like dishes. These, any quarian could ingest easily through their suits, and the high cooking temperatures made the chance of carrying an infection minimal. However, several stalls offered flatbreads, sandwiches, wraps and other vegetarian dishes.

  
“I do wish there was meat somewhere…” Garrus had whispered to Shepard, his mouth watering as he literally stood on tiptoe (completely unnecessarily as he was a good foot taller than any of the quarian around them) watching as the quarian vendor prepared his street food. “But that would be really surprising.

Their ships don’t leave much space for livestock, and fresh meat doesn’t make for very efficient food supplies.” He had been delighted with the flavors of his flatbread and he’d wished Shepard could try it, but Shepard hadn’t gotten the necessary antihistamines to safely eat dextro-based food before disembarking the Normandy. But she was regretting that oversight as the aroma of the flatbread and the other foods around her filled her nose, and Garrus gobbled away the last morsel of flatbread and began licking his fingers like a goddamn animal. Seriously, how was she the one who was supposed to be nervous about looking uncultured when they got to Palaven? She wished she had prepared so she could eat something here too.

  
She honestly hadn’t thought it would have been a possibility. Hadn’t thought any of this would have been possible. When it had taken her so long to heal, to walk, to be independent, she felt a little left behind by the metropolis that was growing before her eyes.

  
“How have you been able to build so much so fast?” she marveled, gazing at the multistory steel towers that punctuated the tent canopy. There were at least a dozen, and although they were simple and efficient in design they certainly weren’t crude.

  
“This will sound crazy, and I still have trouble processing it,” Tali said, “But we have the Reapers and the geth to thank for that. The geth… Shepard, they took what Legion did seriously. They have been helping us every day since you and I were here and we killed that Reaper. Then, shortly after the war had ended, Auntie Raan said that a geth came to her and said that a freed Reaper had communicated to it from the atmosphere. That the geth had told them about the “Shepard Commander” and the “Legion Unit”. Apparently a group of them sought other synthetic lifeforms like themselves, looking for a way that they could fit into the world… and Auntie Raan, keelah se’lai, she said ‘we currently aren't lacking in space but could use strong hands,’ so if they would assist us peacefully in rebuilding they were welcome here.”

  
“She said that?” Shepard had asked incredulously.

  
Tali nodded emphatically. “She has become… friendly with the geth, and despite being one of our Elders... she’s always been a risk taker. The other Admirals were furious and started a vote to strip her of her Admiralty but - you see that spire, Shepard?” She pointed to the tallest spire which stood at the very edge of the water, in the center of the other permanent constructions. “She marched with some of the geth there to the center of the bay. One of the Reapers came down from orbit, and they built that spire in a week.”

  
“Really?” asked Garrus. staring at the tower's shining surface.

  
“Really. Apparently she marched back to the rest of the Admirals and said that it was named The Harvest Memorial Tower, and if they were smart it would be the first in our new capital, and if they weren’t then they could continue to enjoy cleaning sand and dust out of their suits all the time and she, the geth and the Reapers would have a ball living in sand-free buildings all on their own.”

  
Shepard laughed. She had heard the quarians earlier mention rebuilding with the Reapers and the geth but she never would have imagined it meant this. It seemed impossible. Garrus took a moment while Tali explained something to Liara and EDI, whispering in her ear: “I hope you’re looking around Moria. This is because of you.”

  
The children and the geth amazed her the most. She had rarely thought about quarian children, she certainly hadn’t seen them, yet here… there were hundreds of them. She had never thought it was possible that there were so many. Although, she supposed, until her visits to the Migrant Fleet, most of the quarians she had come across were traders, marines or old enough to be on their Pilgrimage. But here, children were running everywhere. Playing games in the streets, assisting parents and riding on the shoulders of some of the robed geth that punctuated the quarian settlement.

  
She had asked Tali about that when she first saw it. They had approached what seemed like an impossibly tall, hooded quarian (it had several inches on Garrus, even) and as she turned to look when they passed it, she saw the lights of a geth gleaming from beneath the hood.

  
“Um... have I hit my head or is that geth wearing clothes?” Shepard had asked.

  
“I would say that there is nothing wrong with your head, Shepard,” Tali snorted, “but somehow I think I would be lying. But yes, that geth is wearing a ta'hal like I am. Many of them are now.” And sure enough, as Shepard began to look for them, she saw geth throughout the crowds around them with hooded ta'hal like Tali wore. Some simply had swaths of the cloth draped scarf-like around their necks, draped across their chests, or tied as sashes at their waists.

  
“Didn’t think the geth would need covering from the elements.” Shepard mused.

  
“Oh, they don’t need them Shepard. They like them.” Tali said.

In the days after Legion’s sacrifice, many of the civilian-heavy quarian ships had chosen to land or take shuttles of settlers down to this part of Rannoch’s southern continent. The Admirals were eager to have as many children on the ground as possible, partially to give them the gift of a childhood with space to actually run around, and also so that the younger generation’s immune system could begin adapting to their ancient homeworld.

  
A geth had been assisting in constructing a shelter for one of the quarian cloth merchants. The geth and quarian couple had struggled in the sun for many hours while their child watched and played by one of the ships. As the sun was setting, the sturdy shelter had finally been completed. The couple thanked the geth and walked back to begin settling in. Moments after entering their new abode, they had heard their son shout, “Wait!”

  
In understandable terror they had rushed back outside and across the sands to find the geth they had been working with kneeling in front of the little boy. The child had taken a length of cloth from one of their stores and was clumsily draping it over the geth’s head and wrapping it around its neck, the geth gently bending to accommodate the quarian’s small frame. When it finished it had stared up at the geth and said, “Thank you for my house.”

  
“I understand the Creators need additional shelter. I am happy to assist.”

  
“I can’t build a house. But my Father taught me to weave,” said the child. “This is for you; a thank you. If it rips I can fix it for you.”

  
The geth stared at the fabric. “Thank you. I will remember your offer.”

  
A few days later, a different geth had wandered to the merchant family’s shelter and asked if it could assist with a task in exchange for a ta'hal, and the new relationship between the quarian and geth had grown from there.

  
Tali explained that some had been given as gifts, as the first one was, and others had been bartered for in exchange for additional help. She said that some geth now had multiple as she had seen the same geth wearing different colored ta'hal.

  
“Historically speaking,” said Liara, “shared commerce and customs is a strong keeper of peace. It’s a remarkable development.”

  
“They are visually pleasing.” EDI remarked.

  
“We can get you one if you like, EDI,” Shepard said. “Just do me a favor and don’t take one from Admiral Xen for any reason.”

  
“Your offer is kind, Shepard,” EDI said, “However, I do not understand the second aspect of your comment.” Tali gave Shepard a wary and knowing look.

The party eventually exited the bustling settlement and Tali led them up a sloped hill to the east with breathtaking views of the bay, the growing spires and the fields and agro-domes sprawling behind them. Tali was explaining the quarian settlement plans; how they were being cautious to not overtax the nearly perfect ecosystem, and avoid pollutants.

  
Shepard was fascinated by the tall, twisting spires of rock that dotted the coast, and could even be found out towards the sea and even stretching inland. According to Tali, these formations were rich in metals and therefore weathered much more slowly than the surrounding rocks. Hundreds of thousands of years of wind and water erosion left them standing distinctly against the sky. Mining resources from these spires was extremely efficient and was contributing greatly to the speed of the settlement's growth. Apparently, the quarians planned to use the taller and larger spires as docking sights for ships or observation bases.

  
Tali was torn personally between an eventual home on top of one of these spires with the amazing views and something right on the water. Garrus thought that a coastal home would be better for drinking their wine.

  
“Our wine?” Tali asked.

  
“Oh, did I not mention earlier that I plan on investing as a full partner?” He said with a grin. “I think Archangel Vineyards… or Archangel Coast would be a great name.”

  
Tali laughed. “I wouldn’t trust you with a partnership in a million years, Garrus.” she said. “You’d drink all our product.”

  
“Oh come on! That’s not fair!” the turian groaned, “You were the one who got completely hammered at Shepard’s house party.”

  
They could just make out her scowl through the quarian’s mask. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll consider putting you in charge of colonial distribution, but that’s it. And all that calibrating you’re so famous for better result in some fat profits.”

  
“Oh don’t you worry, Admiral Tali’Zhora vas Normandy,” he said, “I never miscalculate.”

  
“Speaking of which,” Shepard cut in, “I see you’re still going by vas Normandy?”

  
“Yes, Shepard,” Tali answered. “Many of us are shifting our names. Auntie Raan has chosen to forgo her ship name and be referred to as vas Rannoch. It was a powerful gesture to many.”

  
“But you’ve kept vas Normandy?”

  
“For the time being.” She sighed, staring out at the bay, so full of hope, of promise for her people. “Things are so new still and they are changing constantly. It ...gives me a sense of security. And ...” she said in a surprisingly shrewd manner, “it is helpful for my very formal and sometimes forgetful people to have to repeatedly say the Normandy’s name. It gives me certain clout and helps them remember the work and sacrifices you and many others made to get us here.”

  
Shepard raised her eyebrows at her friend. “Wow. Well aren’t you becoming quite the politician.”

  
“Hardly, Shepard, I am still a scientist,” she said, waving Moria off. “Although,” she added, “politics and coding are not so dissimilar. It takes forever to build anything and one small mistake can break the whole thing.”

  
They gazed in silence for a moment out at the new world that was unfolding before them. Shepard could smell the salt off the sea air and hear children’s laughter carried up to them on the wind. She could feel the smallest bits of spray from the water kissing her face and it was almost as if each droplet washed a shadow of her nightmares away.

  
“So what are you calling this place?” she asked at last.

  
“Oh,” she said, “Auntie Raan came up with it. But I like it,” she grinned at Shepard. “It’s something that hopefully will make people remember what this all cost.” she said softly, lifting her chin and gazing down upon the shining spires. “Welcome, Commander, to our new home ... Legion.”


	5. The Monster

“There’d better be more food at the end of this hike,” Garrus called. He, Liara and EDI walked about a dozen meters behind, while Shepard and Tali had slowly pulled ahead of them. The quarian had wanted to press Shepard for details about how things were developing between Shepard and Garrus. Shepard was mortified at the idea of discussing it in the other’s earshot and had increased their pace to try to get some privacy.

  
“Really? You’re still hungry after stuffing your face in the markets?” Tali laughed over her shoulder.

  
Shepard vaguely heard him grumble something about “...no meat...”

  
“Actually,” Shepard asked, “Where exactly are you taking us?” She couldn’t see anything up ahead apart from the edge of the rise they had been climbing for the last twenty minutes.”

  
“Oh, you’ll see.” Tali replied, bouncing eagerly on her toes. “Shepard, I really think it’s going to take your-

  
They were suddenly cast in shadow and a dark form appeared before them, blocking out the sky and the horizon. An all too familiar roaring blast like a horn rent the air and the light in the creature’s central eye began to glow, fixing on Shepard.

  
Her ears were ringing, her blood roaring, heart pounding. She couldn’t breathe, couldn't think, couldn’t - she needed a weapon. She was running, springing down the hill towards Garrus. His eyes widened in concern, his mouth shaping words she couldn’t hear over the roaring and screaming in her ears. She threw herself on him - tackling him to the ground, minimizing the target he presented. She could hear someone screaming her name, she would get to them, she would keep him safe, then she would find them and make sure ... She snatched Garrus’ rifle from him and sput to aim it at the Reaper-

* * *

“Moria!” he yelled as she raised his rifle, pointing it at the Reaper that had emerged over the crest of the hill. “Moria, no!” He shoved the barrel aside a fraction of a second before she fired and prayed the bullet found no mark as he heard the shot ring through the once tranquil seaside air. What was she doing? He had seen the Reaper emerge and suddenly she’d been running to him. He’d opened his arms hoping to catch her, to calm her since it had clearly spooked her and instead she had attacked him-

  
Green light shone in the air as biotic shields flared up around Tali, Liara and EDI. The three females called out in confusion as they ran towards the two of them. Shepard aimed the gun at the Reaper again and he grabbed it, trying to pull it from her hands. “Moria!” But it was as if she couldn’t hear him. She began fighting his grip on the gun and then raised a hand, preparing a biotic blast. “NO!” Garrus threw himself on top of her, pinning her on her back, his hands locking hers to the ground. He tried to hold her there, calling to her, but swift as the wind she brought a leg up underneath him and with a devastating kick she was rolling on top of him. He fought to keep a hold of her. She freed one hand with an effective jab with her elbow at one of his pressure points. Fuck, she was too good at this close quarters shit - she was going to get free - she was going to... “Someone help me!” he roared.

  
He heard pounding footsteps and then a deep, heavily accented voice yell “Shepard!” A blast of biotic energy nearly hit her, exploding into the shield she brought up at the last moment and as the light faded, Javik appeared in view and landed a punch to the Commander’s jaw. She fell back onto the ground and Garrus threw himself on top of her, yelling “Hold her down!”

  
Javik grabbed Shepard’s legs, his biotics winking into life around her to help restrain her. “Why are we attacking the Commandah?” he yelled. Garrus didn’t answer. In the distance, Tali was calling something to the Reaper in front of them, it was letting out a strange high pitched keening noise.

  
“Moria, snap out of it, please!” he yelled to the woman beneath him. He could feel her straining against him and Javik’s biotics. Then suddenly her head snapped back, her eyes filling with green light, the strands across her body becoming blindingly bright, and with a flash, it disappeared. Her arms went limp.  
“What the...?” Javik asked, sensing the change as well.

  
The roar of engines filled the air. Good, someone must have radioed Joker, maybe if they could get her on the ship, Liara or Chakwas could calm her down, could-

  
A blast from the Normandy’s cannons exploded into the small scrape of earth between them and the Reaper. What the hell? Javik released his hold on Shepard as he wiped dust and debris from his eyes. Garrus scooped her limp form into his arms.

  
“Joker! What the hell?!” he yelled into the comm, “Cease firing on the Reaper, dammit! They’re not a threat anymore!”

  
“I’m not!” Joker called back. Garrus could hear a familiar static roar coming across the comm. “I don’t have control of anything right now, Garrus!”

  
Two more blasts from the Normandy thudded into the ground between him and the Reaper. The Reaper let out another screeching keen. One of the clawlike limbs of the Destroyer class Reaper stabbed into the ground before Tali, who was stranded on the other side of the scorched earth, its bulk blocking her from the debris.

  
“It’s Shepard.” EDI yelled, “She’s in the Normandy. She’s trying to fire on the Reaper.”

  
“Then stop her!” Garrus yelled.

  
“I’M TRYING!!!” EDI yelled with a human frustration Garrus had never heard from her, “I can’t get her out. She’s completely embedded herself in the weapon’s system. It is taking all my processing power to halt the ship's flight and therefore alter the trajectory of the blasts.”

  
“Can you land it?” Garrus barked.

  
“Yes,” she answered as another round of cannon fire filled the air.

  
“DO IT!” He yelled. The Normandy began descending, tilted at a strange angle as EDI limited the vector it could fire. “Tali, Liara, we’ll need you!” Liara began racing over. Tali approached the nearest bulk of the Reaper and ran a hand soothingly across its side, calling up to it.

  
With Shepard’s unconscious form still cradled in his arms, Garrus sprinted for the ship and lept through the porthole before it had fully opened. The ship’s interior was filled with that static roar.

  
“MORIA,” he yelled, gazing around at the screens everywhere that were flickering, frozen or turned to pixelated blizzards. “Moria, it’s ok. We’re safe. We’re on the Normandy. You can stop protecting us.” The static continued to roar.

  
“EDI, get us out of here.” he called, running towards the heart of the ship. “Get us away from the Reaper and away from Legion or any other settlements!” He began running for the engine room without waiting for confirmation.

  
Once again, he opened the door with an elbow and rushed into the room. He kneeled and leaned Shepard against the control panel. He stroked her scratched face. “Moria,” he said softly, “Moria, it’s ok. Listen ... those are the engines. It’s ok. Everyone’s on the Normandy. Everyone's safe. You can stop fighting.” The roaring continued. Garrus could hear the Normandy continuing to fire. The door to the engine room opened and Liara entered.

  
“Liara,” Garrus said, his voice breaking, “Help me, please ...” he begged.

  
Liara crossed to them instantly and kneeled next to him, resting her hands on either side of Shepard’s now sweat slick brow.

  
It felt like an eternity but finally the strands across Shepard’s skin glowed green again, faded, and the roaring static on the ship vanished once again. Garrus was still breathing heavily. He could feel that the simple thrumming of the engines was now a comfort to him as well. He stared at Liara, who gazed back, looking just as troubled and lost.

* * *

“And this has been happening for how long?” demanded Tali, her hands digging in frustration into the side of the table of the War Room.

  
“Since we left Sur'Kesh.” Garrus grumbled.

  
“Keelah se'lai! Why didn’t you tell me?” She stared at Garrus. “If I had known - if I’d any idea she was having trauma-based reactions I would never have surprised her. I would have warned her and made sure that she was ready.” She pressed her hands to her mask. “She seemed so... strong, cocky and ...

normal. But-”

  
“Shepard’s not one to share her vulnerability.” Liara said softly.

  
“But why the hell didn’t one of you let me know what was going on?” Tali railed.

  
Garrus and Liara shared a long, meaningful look. Garrus, shifting uncomfortably, finally said, “There hadn’t been a good time yet -” Liara scowled at him, “and I’ve been trying to avoid spreading knowledge of it. She’s proud, Tali-”

  
“Garrus, half of the settlement probably just saw her ship open fire on one of the creatures that has been instrumental in helping us build Legion. A creature some parents allow their children to visit. I think Shepherd's pride is going to be the least of her worries. She’s going to need to worry about the Admiralty board getting their ta'hal in a tangle.” She quieted for a moment, “I feel terrible… she... she must have been terrified.”

  
“Our focus now,” Dr. Chakwas said calmly, “Is to help her find a course of action for controlling it.” Garrus was deeply thankful for the silver haired woman’s seemingly unshakable practicality.

  
“You’re right.” Tali said with a sigh and a shake of her head, “Liara, are you able to teach her to control it like you were able to pull her out today?”

  
“I can put her into a dreamless sleep.” Liara said. “But that’s not going to be enough of a solution. I was able to reach her today because she was awake, her consciousness was just in the Normandy.” She shook her head. ”But things are obviously getting worse, and we don’t know what the next development will be. We need to get ahead of it. We can’t just keep reacting.”

  
Garrus shifted restlessly. “And just how do we do that?”

  
No one had an answer.

  
There was a small pinging noise from Dr. Chakwa’s omni-tool. She opened it and dismissed the alert. She looked to Garrus.

  
“She’s awake."

* * *

Shepard was huddled in the center of their bed. Her arms were resting on her knees and her head was buried in them, her hair lit with streaks of silver in the star-lit room. She raised her head as he sat on the bed before her. The damp streaks of silent tears, as well as those silvery strands, reflected the moonlight. They were both silent for a moment.

  
“You can’t take me to Palaven,” she whispered.

  
His heart broke. “Are you kidding?” he said softly. “I don’t have a choice about taking you there now.” She frowned slightly and he continued, “You found flaws in our armor and you can control a warship with your mind while also beating the shit out one of C-Sec and the turian army’s best.” She began to bury her head in her arms again but he caught her face, making her look at him. “My father will kill me if I don’t bring you to Palaven and make you one of us. And if I don’t Join with you, my sister will happily march across my still-cooling corpse and be your mate herself.”

  
Moria sniffed and he wrapped her in his arms. “Although,” he rumbled into her hair. “We should probably find a way of controlling when you possess the Normandy and make sure other loud noises don’t spook you.” He kissed her neck gently, “You might be every turian’s dream woman, but even that wouldn't be quite enough to make them forgive you for stubbing your toe and turning our capital into a smoking crater.”

  
“Hey!” she protested quietly.

  
“Look,” he said simply, “We can’t let the quarians show us up with their stupid arts and crafts.”

  
“You... are such an ass.” she whispered. And he grinned into her hair.

* * *

Shepard was examining her scabbed, now bruised face in her cabin mirror. The same mirror where Garrus had studied his face in her nightmares. For a moment she thought she saw that unscarred face, those glowing green eyes staring back at her. She brought a hand to her human face and, in the mirror, saw turian fingers reaching for the face before her-

  
There was a knock at the door - the turian face was gone. Moria Shepard, looking scared and like shit, stared back at her from the reflective glass. Shepard shook her head. “Come in,” she called.

  
Company would be better than the too-quiet cabin. Garrus had left a short while ago to work with Tali and see if they could accomplish some diplomatic triage in the wake of the Normandy’s cannon fire. The questions the geth and Reapers had raised were bad enough on their own, she couldn’t believe she’d caused even more problems.

  
Then the door to her chamber opened and a familiar, deep voice spoke. “Commanda’, I would have thought you would not be so concerned about your looks,” Javik teased gently. “After today I think it is your ability to block and defend yourself that you should be concerned about.”

  
She grinned at him, actually savoring the discomfort that the expression caused her jaw. “Oh come on, Javik. You can’t blame me. I’ve only had little turians to practice on.”

  
The Prothean snorted. “Parhaps I will have to step in to give you someone real to train with. You have clearly outgrown your turian sparring partner.”  
“I wouldn’t turn down that offer, “ she said with a smile, “But he has a variety of uses.”

  
Javik smiled softly. “I am glad to see the two of you are finding happiness.”

  
“I hadn’t realized you were still on Rannoch.” she said, “I thought... you had plans to join the ones you lost when this was all over.”

  
“Hmmmm...” Javik crossed to her cabin window, staring down at Rannoch below them. “That was my plan... but... Shepard, I was furious with you when I did not see the Reapers fall. When they were retreating. I thought you had betrayed us and not annihilated them at any cost, as we had discussed.” He looked to her and she could still see an ember of rage in his eyes.

  
“I know ...” she said softly, her heart sinking.

  
“I made my way to the medbay to kill you and exact revenge for your betrayal of my species. It was fortunate that Garrus was completely incapacitated. I did not want to fight a friend in order to kill you. But Liara stopped me.” He let out a long breath. “She told me that you had made a choice that spared the consciousnesses of my people, that - that a part of them still remained in the Reapers ... and so I have been trying to find them.”

  
“Have you been able to?” Shepard asked.

  
“Not yet,” he said heavily. “My abilities to read the organic physiology within the Reapers synthetics allows me to communicate with them as the other Primitives of this cycle cannot, but the ones that are here, they were never prothean.” The set of his shoulders was heavy. “Some are even more ancient than my people. It can be a struggle to understand them, but Tali believes that they may be able to connect with the other Reapers in the galaxy and help me find where my people are.”

  
“I’m so sorry Javik.” she said softly.

  
He turned to her. “Do not be sorry, Shepard. Be proud. I had abandoned all hope and that made me a warrior unfit for my people. A warrior who would have made choices to destroy the Reapers regardless, and silence my people for good. Besides,” he added, “I was able to punch you today, and that, I feel, is appropriate punishment for you going back on your word.”

  
Shepard laughed. “I am glad Liara was able to help you find hope.”

  
“I am as well,” he said with a soft smile. Then frowned. “She has also told me that you are having the living dreams of your last battles.”

  
“Um... yeah.” Shepard muttered.

  
“You feel shame because of this?”

  
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation for the first time with Javik of all people. Javik, the nicest, most touchy-feely of her companions. Perfect person for a conversation about emotions. “Yes ...” she admitted.

  
“Then you are a fool,” he said. Yup, that was pretty much how she expected this to go. “Experience leaves its marks on all of us. I have told you this before, Shepard.” She sat on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on her knees, head hanging. Fuck, she wasn’t sure she had the energy for this right now. “Any warrior will carry the trauma of battle on them for a time. My people knew this well.”

  
Shepard felt the bed shift beside her and was rather surprised to find the prothean sitting at her side. He gazed out at the stars and continued softly “I carry them as well. The battles here in this cycle, and ...” he was quiet. “And the ones I lost long ago. Those are especially potent.”

  
“My people learned from them,” he continued, murmuring softly. “Used them to look back at our mistakes, to understand our fears, so that when we faced them on a new battlefield, rather than in our sleeping minds, we would be stronger than we had been before.”

  
He rested a three fingered hand on her own. “You must face them and learn,” he said with surprising gentleness. “You must master them. Or they will master you.”

* * *

They were both breathing heavily when they finished. For some reason, their nights since beginning the trip to Palaven had been ... physical and aerobic ... rough frenzied exchanges that left them both spent and unable to think. Maybe it was their way of celebrating both being alive, being relatively whole once again. The two warriors pushed their bodies to the limit in every way to simply prove to the lingering shadows in their, and each other’s minds, that they still could. It made falling asleep easier for her, Garrus had observed, even if undisturbed sleep eluded her. He found the post coital haze was a welcome reprieve from searching for more ways to help.

  
He ran his fingers through her hair. They had been exploring turian-human intimacy for more than a year now and he still found her hair, both distributions of it, entrancing. He’d also noticed that she had started wearing it down more. It was still usually pulled back from her face (no way would Shepard compromise clear visuals) but instead of being in the tousled bun that had been her staple as they prepared for war with the Reapers, she let the lengthening mane cascade down her back. It had been a challenge to focus on the news the Admirals had shared with them with her hair dancing in Rannoch’s wind before him. It made him think of the turian clan-banners of old, carried behind generals so that all knew where the axis of power stood. He couldn’t help feeling somehow that red hair somehow bore a similar message to his world. He wasn’t sure if that should bring him pride or concern.

  
They would be going back down to Rannoch in the morning. Shepard had said she needed to meet with the geth and to his great anxiety, the Reapers, before sharing her thoughts with the Admiralty board. A part of him hoped that after the disastrous trauma of today she would be so worn out that she would actually sleep through the night. At the memory of the cannonfire at the edge of the bay, EDI’s words haunted him. “I’m trying…” the AI had called in distress. EDI, the AI who had been able to rewrite the programming of the Crucible, was able to protect them from hacks by Cerberus, and had made the Normandy sing and soar in ways he had never seen before ... hadn't been able to stop Moria.

  
EDI had been able to control the flight of the ship at least, although he didn’t take much comfort there. He knew Moria; he’d fought beside her and sparred against her enough to know that wicked mind. She was a creature focused on the enemy before her and her ability to destroy it. She was crazy as a krogan and perfectly comfortable with keeping the thing trying to kill her an arm’s length away rather than the healthy sniper scope distance that was his personal preference. Things turned sideways and she wanted a weapon, not a way out. EDI may have been able to control the flight of the ship but he’d bet his favorite sniper rifle on that only being possible because Moria couldn’t care less about the flight of the ship so long as she was firing at the Reaper.

  
The AI was becoming eerily human, and perhaps that was why she had found limitations in dislodging Moria. But a feeling in his gut, a feeling he had learned to listen to, told him otherwise. That feeling had told him when to duck, that there was something off about Saren, and something special about the reckless redheaded human he’d bumped into on the Citadel. And now … it told him that the problem lay, not in the AI’s growing organic behaviors, but in the building conflagration of power in the woman lying in his arms.

  
She stretched and shifted away from him, the sudden loss of the warmth of her body against him shaking him from his thoughts. She walked to the bar in her cabin and poured herself some water. Her skin a silvery tapestry of strands and scars in the starlight.

  
“Moria, I need to talk to you about something …” he said softly.

  
He could feel her tense across the room but she breezed, “Ok, but if you’re going to break things off between us you should know that I still plan on flying to Palaven after this.” She cocked her head to the side and gave him a wicked grin. “I’ve developed a taste for turian. Javik was right, you're delicious.”

  
He rolled his eyes at her. “I must have worn you out more than I thought.” He purred. “That started out hot, Shepard, but you didn’t quite stick the landing.” He sat at the edge of their bed considering her, “But that’s definitely not it. I’m enjoying you far too much.”

  
“Not finished playing with my hair?” she grinned, her fingers drifting for a moment to the hair below her waist.

  
“Never,” he breathed. Damn her, she was distracting. “But seriously, Moria. When you were still out cold earlier today I was talking to Dr. Chakwas.” He could see she was uneasy. “Look, you can take care of yourself, and the rest of the galaxy, it seems. We all know that. But … some of us are worried for you. The dreams, and now after what happened today … Chakwas thinks you might have PTSD.”

  
“PTSD? It’s ok Garrus, I’m not going to die of Post turian Sex Disorder. Mordin gave me a cream for that years ago.”

  
“Very funny.”

  
“Besides,” she said, walking towards him, “some people find limited respiration during sex arousing.” She started to push him back onto the bed.

  
He caught her hands. “Moria, I’m serious.”

  
“So am I,” she grinned, “you already make me breathless but -”

  
He stood up, making her look at him. “Please Moria, these dreams are-”

  
“They’re just bad dreams.” she said, pushing him away. “Everyone gets them after a nasty firefight. You had your own.” she reminded him. “These will go away eventually just like those did.”

  
“Oh, I know I’ve had them.” he said hotly, “And I also know that what we went through fighting for Earth was not a ‘nasty firefight’.” He shook his head.

“Moria I’m having a harder time coming back from that battle than I ever have before -”

  
“See, I’m not the only one-” he cut her off.

  
“And I didn’t go through anything like you did.” She tried to walk away but he held on. “I watched the woman I love die.” He was breathing heavily. “You’re as good a marksman as I am,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “You know how a body looks when you’ve taken the perfect shot. That stillness that means there is nothing, nothing left in that shell. That was you.” She was silent. He choked out the next words “I stood there staring because I knew there was nothing to go to.”

  
“But I’m here!” she snapped.

  
“And no one actually understands how!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that is for the rest of us? And with what you were able to do today you have to take this seriously, it’s dangerous-”

  
“I know it is.” She snarled, pushing him away and storming towards the window.

“Then-”

  
“I am the one who orders those cannons to fire.” She said, spinning to glare at him. She was scared as well as mad, he could smell it on her. “I know exactly what they can do-”

“You also know what the Reapers are capable of,” he pressed. “If it had taken a hit-”

  
“I know!” she yelled at him, her body erupting with green light. The emerald fire of her biotics crackled in the air, the screen on the wall displaying the Normandy’s position becoming a blur of static. Then, quick as it had come, the light vanished, leaving Moria panting and terrified in its wake.

  
Garrus stood staring at her helplessly. He could see her trembling. He began walking towards her “Moria, I-”

  
“Out of my cabin, Vakarian.” There was no tease, no warmth in the way she said his name. Garrus silently stood staring at her for a moment, and then picked his jacket up off the floor. “Yes, Commander.” he said quietly. He neared the door, was almost through it when he heard her take a deep breath to call him back - he was ready to-

  
“And get me Javik.”

* * *

Shepard and Liara walked along a ridge to the east of Legion, the air scented by the crashing waves of the bay below them. There was a gleam in Liara’s eye and the asari’s long strides were quickly devouring the climb to the tent at the top of the breezy bluff. Shepard had to work to keep up with her friend, but didn’t mind the strain. She would have sprinted alongside her friend if that had been the cost of being able to drink in the asari’s joy and excitement.

  
She heard a mechanical whine and EDI came forward so that she was in line with the other two women once again, having clearly increased the pace of her stride. “Oh, sorry,” Liara said, blushing, “I don’t mean to be rushing everyone like this.” She slowed her pace, but Shepard didn’t.

  
“Don’t worry,” Shepard said with a soft smile. “You’re excited. Spirits-” she cut herself off, “Goddess knows we need more of that around here.” Liara gave Shepard a questioning look and began to ask something but Shepard cut her off. “You’re the only archaeologist who’s spoken and traveled with a prothean, and now you’re going to speak with species that existed even before their cycle.” Shepard pushed the trio’s pace further, “Let’s hurry up so you can keep meeting history.” And not talk about my feelings…

  
As they reached the tent at the top of the bluff Shepard was able to see it’s occupants. Javik was studying a screen, the trailing ends of a red and gold ta'hal wrapped around his neck. Shepard was surprised. She had never seen him wear anything other than the prothean armor she had found him in. He’d even worn it when accompanying her to a casino on a mission. (Not her ideal choice for one of her crew when trying to blend in a bit - but it and his notoriety had ended up providing a useful distraction.) To Shepard’s disappointment, Admiral Xen was standing beside him considering the screen as well.

  
“Wow, Javik,” Shepard said as she and her crewmates stepped into the shade of the tent. “Look at you. Picking up a few local customs, I see.” she teased gently.

  
“Greetings, Comanda’,” Javik said, “I can see that my right hook was perfectly placed. It is pleasing to know that, unlike you, I am not growing soft in peace times.” he shot right back, but his eyes gleamed.

  
“Well we always knew you were the pretty one.” Shepard said. “I’m surprised though, I couldn’t get you to wear any of the Alliance gear we offered you.”

  
“This was a gift” he said, “And I thought it would be rude to refuse. Ka’hari made it for me.” he said, nodding to an occupant of the tent that Shepard had not yet spotted. A young quarian was perched on a stool leaning against the table where the screens rested. It was perhaps the height of a 7 year old human child (although Shepard couldn't be sure, she didn’t actually have that much experience around human children… when did they get tall?).

  
“Ka’hari Xen nar Moreh is my daughter, and my apprentice.” Admiral Xen said proudly.

  
Shepard tried to smile at the young quarian, hoping her face wasn’t so banged up that it would scare the female. “Hi, Ka’hari, I’m -”

  
“You’re the Shepard!” Ka’hari said, excitedly rushing forward.

  
“I’m Commander Shepard.” Shepard corrected. She didn’t know what “The Shepard” was supposed to be but she didn’t like the sound of it. It sounded like lots of very unrealistic expectations. “I’m a Spectre.” Yes, let's keep things very clear.

  
“I heard you were The Shepard,” the young quarian said confusedly, “What’s a Spectre?”

  
“A Spectre Is a person who goes around making big messes and catching bad guys,” said a rumbling voice behind her. Garrus and Tali stepped into the shade of the tent. Garrus’ smile flicked from Shepard to the youngling before him. “Commander Shepard is the best of them. She catches the biggest bad guys, but she also makes the biggest messes.”

  
Javik snorted. “That, my turian friend, is an excellent description for the Comanda.”

  
Ka’hari still seemed perplexed by Shepard. “You shouldn’t be making messes. When I make messes on my calculations my work isn’t very efficient. How are you so good at your job if you’re not efficient and you keep making messes?”

  
Javik chuckled. “That, Little One, is an excellent question that I am sure we have all been wondering for some time now.” Shepard squinted at him. Javik ignored her and added “Ka’hari, this is my friend Garrus Vakarian. He is a turian.”

  
“Hi,” Ka’hari said, rushing towards the turian now, the inefficient Spectre apparently no longer of interest. “Do you really have mandibles?”

  
Garrus’ eyebrows raised. The tall turian looked down at Ka’hari and then squatted low so that their faces were level. “Uhh … yes,” he said, a little perplexed. “Yes, I do.” Through her mask Ka’hari’s eyes sparkled. She excitedly reached out a hand, but then stopped before touching Garrus. “It’s ok,” he said gently. “You can touch them if you like. I don’t bite.”

  
Liar. Shepard couldn’t help but think up images of a few specifically shaped bruises she had found on her neck, shoulders, and… that one time, her ass. Garrus made brief eye contact with her and she couldn’t help thinking he was somehow reading her mind.

  
The “Little One” (Shepard was going to find a way to give Javik shit for that later) tentatively placed her hands on Garrus’ mandibles. He opened his mouth and made a “raa raa raa” noise so she could see how they moved. Shepard’s heart ached a little and she let out a long breath, trying to let go of the images of him with another child that would do nothing but bring her pain now.

  
Ka’hari tilted her head to the side, considering the rest of Garrus. “Do you really have juicy meat under your carapace?”

  
“Gahaa-” Garrus said, totally taken aback.

  
“How would it taste with Mahal spice? That’s my favorite, I usually have it on vegetables but-”

  
“Javik’s been teaching her a thing or two.” Admiral Xen said. “Ok, Ka’hari. Come help me with this coding, we’re not doing any dissections today.”

  
“But I wanna know how deep the carapace goes.” Ka’hari said blithely, still staring at Garrus.

  
“It’s about five centimenters at its thickest.” Garrus replied, to Shepard's surprise and Ka’hari’s delight. “And two centimeters thick over most vital organs because those regions also have thick muscular walls ‘cause they need to be able to move and twist.”

  
“Oh,” Ka’hari said, eyes wide, drinking in the information.

  
“Yeah,” Garrus smirked. “turians are pretty cool. But…” he said, pausing for emphasis, “protheans are even more interesting. Did you know that Javik can make a chirping noise by rubbing his legs together?”

  
Ka’hari’s attention snapped to Javik but the Admiral interceded. “Ka’hari. We need someone to get Echo so the Commander can speak to them. Can you help with that, please?”

  
“Oh! Ok!” the child said brightly and ran off down the far side of the hill.

  
“I’m surprised you’re taking so much interest in the education of ‘Primitives.’” Garrus said with a glare at Javik.

  
The Prothean shrugged. “She is remarkably precocious and savage. It made me wonda’ if perhaps the limitations of species in this cycle were because of misguided cultural focus rather than evolutionary limitations. Besides, the environment of Rannoch agrees with me and it would be stimulating to spend time in this place with a few like-minded creatures.”

  
Tali shook her head. “You don’t seem too troubled by Ka’hari’s new entertainment, Admiral Xen.” she remarked.

  
“Varied sources of information are always beneficial.” the quarian said with a shrug. “She’s more than capable of sorting out what will be important.” The Admiral turned to EDI. “I’m delighted that you were able to come and join us today, EDI. Ka’hari has been very interested in meeting you as well, it’s just that she has just had more… colorful information… about your organic companions.”“It is a pleasure.” EDI said, nodding.

  
“Actually,” the Admiral said, “while we are waiting for Ka’hari to get Echo, EDI, I would be very interested in getting your take on something Javik and I have been working on.” EDI took a few steps forward and began looking at the screens before her. “We have been trying to run programs to decipher the audio signals that the Reapers give.” the Admiral said.

  
“Wait,” Shepard said, “We’ve talked to Reapers before, they’ve never had a problem making their threats clear.”

  
“From what Admiral Zorah has shared with us,” Admiral Xen said, “The Reapers were able to communicate with organics previously because they were controlled by the Conduit. It’s programming and surveillance of Organics gave it the tools to speak with species of our cycle. However, after EDI’s astounding wiping and rewriting of their systems, the consciousnesses of the harvested species are now in control of the Reaper structure. They don’t seem to have access to the translation programmings that the Conduit used.” She gestured to the screens before her. “Several of the Reapers here seem to be communicating with each other and us using particular pitched auditory frequencies.” She saw Shepard’s bemused expression. “They are not dissimilar to the sound waves that the whales of Earth use, Shepard. We’ve recorded samples and have been trying to analyze them to create our own translation programs. But they are proving difficult.”

  
“The experiences of the consciousnesses I have been able to read are very, very ancient.” Javik said. “Their communication systems seem to have been truly astounding in their neuro complexity. They make my people look like you primitives.”

  
EDI’s eyes were flicking with uncanny speed over the data before her. “Yes, I can see that the patterns do not align with any known linguistic bases. However, if you have data regarding the circumstances surrounding these recordings then running simulations of their conversations may yield something more promising.”

  
Admiral Xen began retrieving the additional information with Tali’s assistance. Javik asked Liara to look over sketches of buildings he had seen while reading the experiential markers of the Reapers to see if any were of civilizations she was familiar with. This left Shepard and Garrus standing awkwardly across the tent from one another. He looked like shit, but between the fading scratches, bruised jaw and the new shadows under her eyes, she supposed she wasn’t the one to judge.

* * *

Shepard had slept alone last night, after their fight. She wasn’t sure where Garrus had gone. She supposed he still technically had his own cabin assignment on the Normandy, not that it had been used for much lately apart from storing his less-used armor. She hadn’t seen him yet this morning. Traynor had come to her early that morning with a disembark request from him. Apparently he’d arranged for Tali to show him the vineyards before the day grew too warm.

  
She’d woken in the middle of the night gasping for breath from her latest nightmare. She’d fallen from the bed, the sweat soaked blankets tangled around her. Gazing bleary eyed around the cabin, she was instantly grateful she’d been alone. All the glass in the room was shattered. The shield reinforced window was still intact, but the few bottles of wine, glasses and tumbler of water at the bar had been reduced to a jagged landscape of gleaming shards. The remnants of a side table’s glass top littered the floor and the mirror where she’d seen visions of Garrus’ twisted face was spider webbed with cracks. Staring at her haggard reflection in the fractured glass, she felt sick. Of the two faces she’d seen there, the truly dangerous one, the monster, was her.

  
After doing her best to sweep up the glittering debris, she was ready to take the bag of broken glass to the compactor in the hall - but stopped right before her door. She wasn’t alone. She stood there - her hand hovering over the door panel - heart still beating quickly from the nightmare. She was as good of a marksman as he was. She knew the tension in the air of someone lying in wait. Knew the sound of someone waiting to spring. The sound of held breath. And after all the times the two of them had stalked into the belly of something nasty, all the times he’d covered her… Shepard knew the sound of Garrus keeping her in his sights.

  
“If you were Alliance,” she said softly. “I’d have you discharged for this shit, Vakarian.” She dropped the bag by the door and stalked back to the bed. Let him worry. Let him wonder. Hot tears of shame and anger crept down her face. She cursed herself for the feelings sweeping through her and the turian in the hall who she knew could literally smell her fear and hear her held breath and pounding heart. That was the damn problem with space flight.

* * *

Garrus pressed his head back in exhaustion and slid down the wall of the Normandy. It didn’t matter if she heard him now. After she kicked him out he’d wandered the Normandy aimlessly, not even bothering to go back to his cabin. He knew he’d get no rest there. He knew she hadn’t been ready. But taking control of the Normandy a second time. Using it to go on the offensive… he didn’t have a choice.

  
He’d ended up outside her cabin a few hours after Javik had flown back down to Rannoch. He’d dozed fitfully, sitting across from it, fortunate that her cabin was at least in a corner of the ship rarely frequented in the late hours. He’d seen a blue figure at the end of the hallway at one point, but a moment later they were gone. Well then, he wasn’t the only one feeling the need to keep sentinel.

  
He’d felt the nightmare begin. Caught the change in the scent emanating from her room. Heard her thrashing in the bed, crying out, heart pounding. He’d spent the whole time wrestling against the words still ringing in his ears. “Out of my cabin, Vakarian.” An order from his superior. And so, despite everything in his body telling him to go to her, he stayed.

  
Then he’d felt the blast. Seen the door rattle on impact as air burst through the cracks. He’d heard the shattering glass and the thud on the floor. His hand had been on the panel to open the door when the sounds of her shifting inside stopped him. He’d heard her nearing the door and slid to the side, torn between his desire to make sure she was ok and dash silently down the hall. Not that it mattered, apparently. Before he could make a decision she’d sensed he was there. Damn. Well that wasn’t going to help things.

* * *

“How were the vineyards?” Shepard asked.

  
Garrus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Remarkable.” he said. “They think they’ll have their first harvest in two Rannoch months.” He brightened, “They were preparing a new row of the vineyard, taking cuttings from the established plants to get the new ones going. I actually got to plant a few.” He smiled at her. “It felt good to create something rather than kill or destroy.”

  
Pain filled Shepard’s eyes. Shit, he thought. Spirits he was stupid, did he really just - he had just wanted to share something pleasant - he hadn’t meant to-  
“Here comes Echo!” Ka’hari streaked past the two of them, running for the cliff's edge.

  
“Commanda’,” said Javik, crossing to them. He lowered his voice and with surprising gentleness in his eyes, said. “Center yourself. Our Reaper is about to arrive.”

  
Garrus and Javik followed the rest of the assembled party from the sheltering shade of the tent to the edge of the bluff, where they stood and waited.  
Shepard took deep breaths. She could do this. She’d been on the ground in London. She’d made it off the Collector base. She’d made it off the Citadel. So why the hell was she so scared now? This Reaper wasn’t going to attack her. She was the freaking one who had decided to keep it alive. And maybe that was the problem … she wasn’t actually worried about what the Reaper was going to do. She was scared of what she might do. She’d always trusted her reactions, her gut, when things got hot, knew it was going to be her best shot at staying alive. But now that was a problem. She couldn’t control it.

  
She crossed her left arm across her chest, her right elbow resting on it, right hand in front to her mouth in what she hoped was a pensive stance. She’d kicked Traynor out of her own room so she could check how it looked in the specialist’s mirror. She was pretty sure it worked. Most of all, it meant that she could subtly look down and see the silver strands across her fingers. She had something to focus on, something to remind her that she had made it out. That things were different. That she and this Reaper were different.

  
The Reaper rose in the sky before them. Shepard could still feel her heart pounding. She forced herself to look from the Reaper to the hand before her face again and again. Why hadn’t it obliterated them - because it wasn’t going to obliterate them. It was there to talk to them. Deep breaths.

  
Over to their left, Shepard saw a geth crest the hill and join them as well. Yes, see, the geth were here; the nice, friendly, ta'hal wearing geth and the nice, city rebuilding Reapers. She had done this for them. She stared again at the strands on her hands. All this, these fucking nighmares, the broken glass, the annoying lingering salarian doctors, it had all been for this. End the war, save EDI, honor Legion, befriend the Reapers. Ok, if she was honest with herself, she hadn’t really thought the last bit through.

  
Shit they were huge. It was only a Destroyer class Reaper, like the one she had killed here on Rannoch, actually. But it towered above them. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. To her amazement and horror she saw Ka’hari dash past the adults and run right to the edge of the cliff, straight to the foot of the Reaper. Her stomach clenched, she felt her muscles spasm. The desire to run forward and grab the child, or grab something damaging and send it at the Reaper, was almost overwhelming. It plays in the waves, she thought, it plays in the waves. But the words brought to mind images of not waves, but Alliance ships breaking against their long, strange arms.

  
She could feel Garrus watching her. He was probably ready to pounce on her at the slightest sign of trouble. But no. That wasn’t going to happen today. She was tired of not being in control. Deep breaths. Silver strands. Reaper tea party.

  
The geth that had joined them on the hill was standing with Ka’hari by the leg of the Reaper, a hand resting upon the surface of the Reaper. Shepard forced herself to walk forward to where Javik, Liara and EDI stood a few meters from the Reaper. As she neared she heard Ka’hari laugh.

  
“What’s so funny?” she asked. Deep breaths. Friendly Reapers.

  
Ka’hari smiled at her. “Echo is worried that I still have not grown bigger since a few days ago. It thinks I’m sick.”

  
Shepard looked to the geth before them. It was also wearing a ta'hal wrapped around its neck, hood back. Most geth were fairly similar, but she couldn’t help feeling this one seemed familiar.

  
“Echo, I would have thought geth would be more familiar with the slow growth of quarians and other organics, having been made by them.” Shepard remarked.

  
“Greetings, Shepard Commander,” said the geth. “I am not Echo. I am called Sentinel.”

  
“You’ve actually met Sentinel before, Shepard,” Tali said, “They were there the day we returned to Rannoch and helped Auntie Raan and the others to recover.”

  
“It is good to see you again, Shepard Commander.” Sentinel said with a nod, then looked up at the Reaper. “This is Echo.”

  
There was a rumbling keening noise in the air. Shepard flinched and took several steps back. Green sparked on her hands. No, she thought, I will not do this. The Reaper dragged its front claw back away from her, letting out a higher keen.

  
“It’s ok, Echo!” Ka’hari said, stepping forward and running a hand along the arm of the Reaper. “Javik said he wouldn’t let the Shepard do anything - she was scared last time but he punched her, and he said he’d protect you.” The pitch of the keen lowered and the Reaper seemed to settle and calm. Shepard looked at the others, trying to continue her deep breaths, her knuckles white with clenching. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m trying.”

  
Everyone was tense. “I thought you were currently unable to communicate?” asked Liara.

  
Admiral Xen stepped forward a little, gazing up at Echo. “The geth are able to connect with them somewhat.”

  
Sentinel nodded once. “We can receive signals through contact and can make our best guess regarding their meaning. With practice, we have had growing success with communication.”

  
“I can read the markers of their experiences,” Javik said, “but what I find are either very recent experiences or the long forgotten past. Direct answers do not happen.”

  
“But Echo listens to me!” Ka’hari said, leaning against the Reaper. To Shepard, it seemed like it truly did. The Reaper let out a bugling sound following the young quarian’s remark.

  
Shepard could see Tali smiling through her helmet. “Whatever species they once were, the Reapers here do seem to have an interest and respect for the children.”

  
“There is something universal about the young spirit.” Liara said. She walked slowly towards the Reaper.” Looking to Sentinel, she asked. “May I try to connect with it?”

  
Sentinel tilted its head to the side slightly for a moment and then said. “It is not sharing distress upon your approach and I sense curiosity. You may proceed.”

  
Liara closed the distance between herself and the Reaper and laid one of her periwinkle hands upon its bulk. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Shepard was tense, watching her friend. Why couldn’t she breathe? Why couldn’t she shake the sense that there was something dangerous here? Liara’s brow creased and her breathing became sharp. Javik quickly came to stand next to her, not interrupting the asari’s connection but clearly ready. There was a flash of biotic light and Liara stumbled back, nearly losing her footing, but Javik quickly caught her.

  
“Incredible.” Liara breathed.

  
“What did you see?” Garrus and Xen asked at the same time. Their tones couldn’t have been more different, however. The turian’s was cautious, and Xen’s tinged with the hunger Shepard had mistrusted earlier.

  
“I… it was…” Liara faltered. “It was very overwhelming. Asari’s connections are always personal. We are not like the Rachni that function on a hive mind. We establish incredibly powerful connections to one other individual. It was like a hurricane of different minds all clamoring to be heard. They... they seem to be of one species… but there were mountains and towering spires, incredibly rapid movement. I do not believe they were sapien creatures. I was small and delicate in their view.” Her eyes shone, “There was concern that I would blow away. Somehow that was very clear.” She laughed, gazing up at the Reaper and ran a hand gently along the side. The Reaper made a rumbling noise. “It is formidable but does not seem to be aggressive.”

  
“Well I could have told you that.” Ka’ahari said impatiently.

  
“Can you communicate with it?” Tali asked.

  
“Not really.” Liara said, “Not for some time, at least. If there was a way to connect with an individual it would perhaps take less time but the way all these individuals are wound together, meaning will be muddled.”

  
“May I try and establish a connection?” EDI said, stepping forward and looking to Sentinel as Liara had.

  
Sentinel nodded. “It is experiencing a rush of electrical signals and associations that are reducing feelings of strain and isolation. I believe it is enjoying trying to communicate and is eager for more.”

  
EDI now lay a hand upon the Reaper. Shepard shifted and took another deep breath. She could feel Garrus watching her. She felt no more comfortable about the robot's connection than she had about the Liara’s. EDI’s eyes began to glow - Shepard’s heart pounded, but the light she saw was white, not that green that had flared on the Crucible, not the green that she herself seemed to generate. After what felt like an eternity, EDI stepped back.

  
“It is like me.” she said. There was something oddly tender in her voice.

  
“What do you mean, EDI?” Tali asked.

  
“There are no life sustaining organic structures. There are strands of organic tissue very very deep in the processing core, but they have been altered extensively and damage to them would not be catastrophic to its function. There is someone there. Many someones.” She looked to the organics. “It is like before I had this physical body, and was only present in the Normandy. I would be thinking and feeling despite not having an independent humanoid form.”  
“Then you can communicate with it, control-” Xen rushed.

  
“I have unique processing abilities.” EDI said, her chin lifting. Was that pride in the AI’s voice, Shepard wondered? “But Echo… it is like there are millions of me. It’s capable of much more than I am. But with time I may be able to develop communication systems that would be more compatible than I have now. I am currently receiving signals similar to what Sentinel is receiving.”

  
“Incredible.” said Admiral Xen, staring hungrily up at the Reaper. Maybe Shepard wasn’t crazy for feeling that there could be some danger here.

  
“So we have two new methods of data collection.” Tali said slowly. “But no real communication as of yet.” Javik nodded. There was a restlessness and disappointment in the air among the scientific minds. Oh, hell.

  
Shepard began walking towards the Reaper.

  
“Shepard, what are you doing?” Garrus demanded.

  
“What I always do.” she said dryly. “I’m connecting with ancient alien crap to see what it has to say for itself.”  
“Be careful, Shepard,” Liara said.

  
Like that was ever possible.

  
“Shepard,” Garrus caught her arm. “I - are you sure this is a good idea - after yesterday - after last night-”

  
“No.” She said, staring at him. She felt strangely calm now. She was doing something. That felt better than trying to have things not happen. “I’m never sure it’s a good idea.” The next words were heavy. “But I’m the one who has to do it.” She brushed free of his grasp, reached out and laid a hand on the Reaper.

* * *

She made contact before he could stop her. The flash happened in an instant. The strands on her body blazed to life and her eyes took on that strange radiance. All details of her eyes lost, becoming two infinitely deep pools of green light. Her head had snapped back and a wave of biotic energy rushed past them. Her hair had come unbound, and it now drifted, suspended in some kind of force emanating from her connection with the Reaper.

  
Garrus saw Tali activate her omni-tool, studying something on the display. He heard Ka’hari cry out, pointing to something before them. He squinted. Through the blaze of the light coming from Shepard he could see something changing on the Reaper. A network of green light was spreading from where her hand lay. A geometric labyrinth spiraling out from her along its clawlike arm and up to its long tapering back. As the light spread, the pattern was shifting. The weave of the light where Shepard stood was as concentrated as the labyrinth on her own body, but as it spread across the Reaper there were larger gaps between the lines. They continued their ever branching, twisting journey till there was no section of the behemoth before them that was unmarked. Their radiance began to glow. They suddenly released a blinding flash and Shepard’s scream rent the air.

* * *

There was screaming all around her. Howling winds, or voices, or grasping hands, or beating wings… she couldn’t tell, the sensations flooding her were overwhelming. She wanted to curl up, to cover her ears, to hide from the storm around her, but she and it were seamlessly connected. There was no point where she ended and it began. She could feel everything.

  
Pain… fear… anger… loss.

  
She saw a sky punctuated with gleaming, spiraling towers. Legion? she thought, but no, these had vast arched openings in their sides stretching into the sky. Gentle arching arms like a half finished walkway extended from the structures. The sky was full of strange glinting crafts. An explosion rent the air, a red beam cutting along the ground leaving a trail of carnage in its wake, the things in the air becoming explosions of light as they came in contact with the beam. The arm of a Reaper touched down within the crown of achingly beautiful spires. The air was full of the sound of thousands of wings and the sky became a frenzied storm of fear and flapping. Some of the creatures flew for the Reaper - taloned claws outstretched, but they too vanished in the wake of that red beam.

  
She was on fire. Pain in every part of her burning away slowly. She beat against the tube around her, screeching and clawing with talons till they disintegrated in the burn. She tried to draw breath, lungs gasping as they too evaporated away.

  
Death. Harvest. Slaughter. Balance. She didn’t hear these words. Instead… they moved through her. Time and time again. They would return from the dark cold. From the empty sleep back to these realms with the warmth of suns. There would be screaming. There would be work. Then there would be silence… and back to the cold once more.

  
Then there was light. Something rippling through them. Them. The word hung in their minds. THEM. The force that had dragged them forward was gone. Now there was a clamouring of voices, wails, screams, songs. Them. They remembered. They remained. They had endured.

  
Shepard felt the whirlwind of consciousness shift again. There was fear, apprehension, hope. She could see the thing that had been her now - a blaze of energy, of power in an infinitely small form. Eyes, beacons of green light devoid of humanity, hair drifting in a vortex. The light of the Connection marking every inch of her form. There was fear. Terror. The desire to run, to fly, to hide. Three words rang out clearly from the throng around her. Master... Destroyer… Savior.

  
No Shepard thought. That’s not me.

  
The minds around her pressed. Master... Destroyer… Savior.

  
None! She tried to scream into the howling around her. Shepard. Just Shepard. The howling seemed to wane for a moment and then.... Shepard. It pressed back. A flurry of images rushed through her mind.

  
Too much. She thought desperately. One. One voice. One image. Small. Soft. The storm around her grew louder and then a single image appeared in her mind: an open sky. A sense of gratitude. Ok, lets see… Shepard thought about how she felt standing on the deck on the Normandy. Secure. Confident. Free. There was a rushing in the winds around her and she felt that image pressed back to her again. Ok. That was working.

  
A new series of images were pressed to her mind. The soaring spires, first in perfect, breathtaking condition, then in flames, tumbling from the skies. Next she saw the city of Legion, the Memorial Tower rising into the sky. A longing filled her. Home the whirlwind pressed.

  
Shepard filled her mind with visions of Legion: the tall spire, the throngs of quarian and geth, Rannoch’s wide open spaces and soaring rocky towers. Shared home. She pressed back.

  
She thought of Liara, Javik, Tali, Sentinel, everyone. She felt recognition around her. Small. She thought. Soft. One voice. One voice. Slow.  
One voice. Slow, small, soft. It pressed back.

  
She thought of herself. Not the glowing version, but her walking up the hill with Liara. Shepard. She thought of the voices around her and tried to focus on the confusion, the howling sound, not the Reaper shell. Echo?

  
A gleaming figure filled her mind. Huge shining wings that beat the air with a sound like cannon fire. Feathers of what looked like metal, a horned crest, talons articulating a hollow display and a screeching cry of pride, of joy, of defiance that carried for miles, tearing through cool mountain air, the sound rebounding off their rocky face. ECHO.

  
Shepard would have been trembling if she had a body. It had worked. But she was exhausted. She felt overwhelmed. Pain filled her head. It felt like talons reaching inside her skull; searching, digging for something. She wanted to scream. She felt Echo pressing into her, hunting for something. There was a feeling of victory, and Shepard heard Anderson’s voice in her mind, “Thank you, Shepard.”

  
Pain was still blazing in her head. The rush of images resumed. Planets rippling with fire, talons being dragged through sparkling seas, the crash of thousands of wings… and something else… in the tumultuous pouring of images, one seemed to hover before them, a silhouette before blinding green light, a horned head, broad shoulders and hair dancing in the wind, green eyes locked on hers, and then in a roar all was gone...

* * *

Shepard fell to the ground as the light vanished. The strands across her body had returned to their former silver, and the Reaper was now unmarked. Garrus rushed forward and eased her into a sitting position. She was panting but conscious, thank the spirits, though he was deeply troubled by the stream of blood running from her nose.

  
“What was that?” Xen breathed.

  
Shepard coughed. “Just the two of us having a little chat.” she said, her voice rough from the scream.

  
“You were able to communicate with it?” Liara demanded.

  
“Yeah, sort of.” Shepard said. “Everyone’s right. There’s a lot of minds in there. But, I - I think it might be easier now. I tried to get Echo to understand that we can only listen to one.”

  
“If you were able to communicate with it that directly,” Admiral Xen said, breathless with excitement, “then perhaps you could command it to-”

  
“No one’s commanding Echo.” Shepard said firmly, glaring up at the quarian. “People can ask them things nicely. But if they try commanding it I’m going to put a bullet in their head.” Admiral Xen froze. “They were controlled for cycles and cycles. They just want freedom and a home like the rest of your people.

And your daughter seems to be happy to share hers with them.” She let Garrus help her to her feet. The Admiral was suddenly very still. “And they are right.” Shepard continued, her eyes still locked on the quarian. “They need a new name. They were obliterated in their cycle, but fought to survive just as hard as we did. They’re no more Reapers than I am.” The wind was the only thing that stirred or made a sound in the wake of her words.

  
“We should get you down to Legion.” Tali said softly. “You look like you could use something to eat and drink after all that.” Shepard nodded. She looked up at the Rea- at Echo and raised a hand, hopeful it would come across as a signal of farewell. The building sized arm in front of them dragged forward in the dirt several feet and they all heard a low rumbling noise. Shepard watched in amazement as it made its way back from the hill and down towards the waters.

  
“You need to be careful with it,” she said to Liara and Javik. “I think it… the Echo had some kind of telepathic abilities in the past. They… they made me hear some of my own thoughts to communicate and it hurt like hell. I don’t think they meant it to. They are a whole hell of a lot stronger than us and don’t seem very good at controlling it yet.” They nodded and strode ahead into the tent, deep in discussion. Tali, Admiral Xen, Sentinel and EDI had returned to the screen laiden table, discussing the recordings they had taken while Echo had been up on the bluff, comparing them to past data. Ka’hari was staring at where Echo now drifted just over the water. The little quarian seemed more pensive than she had before. Garrus was of course watching Shepard while trying to look like he wasn’t.

  
“Commander Shepard.” Ka’hari said coming forward. “I have something for you.” She reached into a pouch on the hip of her suit and pulled out a ta'hal. “I made it while Echo and Sentinel were telling me stories about you.” She said brightly. “The geth helped me have a home and they have ta'hal now, and I wanted the Shepard to have one from us too.”

  
Shepard squatted before the young quarian, deeply touched. She took the offered fabric in her hands and began to unfold it, “Thank you, Ka’hari,” she said. “It’s beautiful-” she froze. Green lines branched and spiraled across the fabric of the ta'hal. Their color and design… a perfect match to the strands on her body and light they emitted. Her heart was beating fast. It didn’t make any sense. She had just met the child. The workmanship of the ta'hal was excellent. Shepard didn’t know a damn thing about making clothes but there was no way this had been made quickly.

  
Garrus had seen it too and crossed to her side. He ran a finger over the fabric. “The design is really pretty Ka’hari.” he said softly. “How did you come up with it?”

  
“Echo likes to draw it in the sands.” she said brightly. “They did a whole beach two miles that way,” She said pointing. “I could see it from the spire where I like to watch them.” She took the fabric from Shepard and wrapped the ends around the Spectre’s neck, pulling the hood up over her wind-tangled hair.

“There!” She said. “You can be one of us now that Echo likes you.”

  
“I’m honored.” Shepard said softly.

  
“Come on Ka’hari,” Admiral Xen called. “Time to head back down to Legion for lunch since we don’t have any geth to get some for us. Although, maybe Sentinel would lend us a hand with that?”

  
“I am happy to go with you and continue analyzing the data.” Sentinel said, “But I would not know what organic sustenance would be useful at this time and cannot be of assistance in that particular manner.”

  
“Well, that will have to do.” the Admiral sighed and began descending the hill with the geth and her daughter in tow.

  
EDI, Tali and Liara had already begun their trek back as well, hoping to retrieve some equipment from the Normandy that might prove useful for deciphering the new data before joining the others for food. Javik, apparently disinterested in the vegetarian options available, had chosen to remain at the screens working, saying he would catch something that crawled by for his own meal. Shepard stood beside him in the shadows of the tent for a while, watching the shrinking form of Admiral Xen.

  
“Something on your mind, Comanda’?” he asked, leaning on the table and looking up from his screen.

  
“What do you think of Admiral Xen?” Shepard asked softly.

  
The Prothean considered. “She is highly capable and deeply versed in Artificial Intelligence. The geth and Reapers fascinate her, and she has been an invaluable resource in understanding how the two communicate… but she is very… utility focused in her view of them.”

  
“I want you to keep an eye on her.” Shepard said. “She’s a useful ally but I don’t want her causing trouble and jeopardizing things here. I don’t want her getting out of hand.”

  
Garrus cocked his head slightly at the change in Shepard’s tone. There was a predatory stillness in the way she watched the quarian off in the distance.  
Javik flashed a wary look to Garrus. He straightened and then continued, looking to Shepard, “And if she does start getting out of hand?”

  
The three hunters stood silent in the shadows of the tent. The wind made the trailing ends of Shepard’s new ta'hal dance. The two males waited. Finally, the Commander answered simply, “Kill her.”


	6. First of Their Kind

“So how did you explain away the Normandy’s...artillery display?” Shepard asked Admiral Raan. She, Tali, Admiral Raan and Sentinel were walking along the beach stretching out before Legion. The sea breeze had blown the hood of Shepard’s ta’hal back from her head. She had asked the quarian’s how their ta’hals stayed in place despite one's movement in battle or the whims of the elements and they explained that there were special clips along their suit to stabilize the fabric. Apart from having cultural significance, the ta’hal offered a little more protection of the Quarians' precious suits.

“We told most of the Admirals that some humans on your ship had seen the approaching Reaper below and overreacted.” Admiral Raan said, staring out at the sea. “But that their wise Commander, as she did when we were at war with the geth, shouted them out of the sky and made them see that there was no threat. She then stormed aboard her ship and disciplined the trigger happy members of her crew.” 

Shepard’s face grew hot, and not from Rannoch’s fierce sun. She had no problem with spreading stories of trigger happy humans, there was too much truth in it on a species level, but she couldn't help feel that the way she had been able to forge peace between the geth and the quarians was somehow tainted by association with the disaster she had nearly caused.

She nodded to Admiral Raan. “I can’t thank you enough for your wise and diplomatic handling of the situation.” she said.

“Keelah se'lai, child,” the Quarian said. “You owe me no thanks. Tali explained what happened. It was unfortunate, and you have very surprising abilities, but I am unsurprised that a warrior such as yourself would have such a reaction.” She gazed at the spire she had built with the Reapers and geth for a moment. “Our marines who fought with you at Earth had similar difficulties adjusting. All we can do is be patient and hopeful.”

Somehow Shepard wasn’t comforted by the woman’s words. For some reason she felt she didn’t have the luxury of time to be patient.

“Admiral Xen and her little spitfire Ka’hari know what really unfolded, of course.” Admiral Raan said. “They had been working with Javik up on the hill, and witnessed the incident. But you do not need to worry. Ka’hari has more wisdom than her excitement tends to show, and your only concern regarding Admiral Xen would be her growing desire to plug you into her omni-tool and see how you work.” she added, laughing. Shepard was still not comforted.  
The sea air was delightful. Most of her shore leave was spent in places like the Citadel or Omega, but rarely, it seemed, had she been able to spend leisure time on planets, and certainly not one as nice as Rannoch’s southern continent. 

Even after an excellent meal from one of the food stalls in the settlement behind them she still felt worn. Working with Echo had been “incredible” (Shepard could hear Liara’s voice echoing the sentiment in her head.) But she had growing concerns. Admiral Xen’s perspective troubled her. Echo’s shee r size and power filled her with a dose of healthy trepidation, and her own nearly uncontrollable adrenal “fight” reaction plagu ed her still. She wanted to chide herself for her negativity in the face of the progress she could see all around her. Yet, with so much here to lose, the whispered words terrified her. _ The peace will not hold. _

“I am glad to hear that you too believe that Echo and their fellows deserve a new name.” Admiral Raan continued.

“Shepard Commander,” Sentinel asked. “After hearing your thoughts on the “Reapers” naming, observing your interaction with them today and seeing your association with the AI EDI, I am very curious to know your thoughts regarding a synthetic seat on the Council.

_ Oh, hell. _

Shepard took a long breath. “Sentinel,” she said gazing at his gleaming mechanical form as she walked, “Every fiber of me _knows_ that synthetics deserve a seat at the Council. Probably more than one if you were to really represent the varied forms of synthetic life. I think it’s necessary for us to keep peace, necessary for synthetics and organics to grow together as lifeforms, but most of all it is just something you deserve.”

“This is encouraging, Shepard Commander.” Sentinel said with a nod. “We are grateful for your support.”

“But,” Shepard added gently; she didn’t want to have to crush the geth’s newfound feelings, “I am very worried about getting a geth on the Council.”

“But Shepard Commander, “ Sentinel supplied. “Surely the advocacy of a Spectre-”

“Won’t mean shit.” she said with a pained laugh. “Sentinel, I’m very sorry but you should know now that I will be a powerful military ally in every way that I can, but when it comes to the Council I’m as good as radioactive waste.” Admiral Raan looked at her in confusion. “I’ll get their attention eventually, but it’ll be almost too late at that point. It was the last two times.” she added darkly. “The Council don’t like me. I will fight for you to have a seat but I want to warn you that it is going to be very hard and we will likely have to be very, very patient.” She stopped for a moment and stared directly at the Geth leader. “And that’s me saying that, and I’m not someone who’s good at or likes being patient.”

There seemed to be a new heaviness to the set of the Geth’s shoulders. “I understand your concern, Shepard Commander.”

“I don’t like it anymore than you do my friend,” Admiral Raan said softly. “They have never been interested in giving my people a seat either.” She stared at the geth, and a fire shone in the eyes behind her mask. “But I promise I will do all that I can to get one of your people there, so that you can speak for my people, Echo’s and all of Rannoch.”

The connection between the elder quarian and the geth made Shepard’s heart soar and the weight on her shoulders feel very, very heavy. Sentinel nodded it’s head once and said quietly. “Keelah.”

The three walked in silence for a while, the seaside air thick with the responsibility and dreams they carried. They were approaching a quarian that was holding a bundle of clothes and staring out at something splashing in the water. As they neared, Shepard could make out the details of Tali’s ta’hal and heard her friend call out. “You’d better get out here. There is no way I am coming in there for you.” she yelled to something splashing in the water. 

“Tali,” Admiral Raan called, “I know you have picked up some blustery political tactics in all your time hanging around Shepard, but I don’t think that you will be able to yell the kelitza out of the sea to feed us.”

“I wish that was what I was doing.” Tali said, then yelled at the waves “No way am I risking an infection or puncture on my suit to resuscitate your spiney, drowned, ke’ sed hide!” She sighed and looked at them. “At least you are here Shepard, you can drag him out and give your idiot gurian mouth-to-mouth and save him once again. Apart from it not being worth the antibiotics,” Shepard could just see Tali’s nose wrinkle in disgust, “I know he is dextro, but resuscitating him would be like kissing a cousin. Blegh.”

_ Your idiot turian _ Shepard thought, and then sure enough, a tall form burst from beneath the water. Garrus flung back his head, sending water spraying back from his crest and began wading towards him. She’d never seen him wet before… The water cast the ridges, colar and contours of his carapace in a glaze of silver. He was about up to his thighs in the water and she could see the spines from the back of his legs peeking from the ocean’s surface a few inches behind each leg. They sliced through the surf, following him like an escort of tiny sharks. His wet scars were like a gleaming filigree across his body and there was a knowing, predatory gleam in his eyes as they made contact with hers. Shepard felt a little warm. She felt like she should be doing something else or looking at something else but couldn’t come up with anything. 

“Hey, Shepard.” he rumbled as he stepped from the shallows, beginning to leave a trail of two talloned footsteps behind him in the sand _. Damn him. _

“I thought you’d said seeing a turian swim was a bunch of flailing, splashing, interrupted by bouts of drowning?” Shepard said.

“Oh, you should have seen -” Tali began but Garrus silenced her with a glare as he snatched the fabric from her arms. To Shepard’s surprise he began slipping into a ta’hal. This particular one consisted of a hood like hers and three long trails of ornately decorated fabric. One hung down his back, and the other two down along his broad chest. He tied a long belt across his tapered waist. It was like a very, _ very  _ open robe in a blue very close to that of his clan tattoos with a swirling silver pattern. Beneath it were only his pants, which she could tell he had cut to just above his knee socket, perhaps to make swimming easier….she really needed to stop staring at his pants… and his chest….and his smirking - 

She cleared her throat slightly. “Going native, I see? You’re not wearing much there. I don’t want members of my crew catching a cold. Admiral Raan and the others will kick us out.”

“Don’t worry about me, Shepard.” he said, “The armor was getting stuffy. Rannoch’s about fifteen degrees hotter than Palaven’s warmer months, so I’ll be fine. Besides,” he said, stretching luxuriously,  _ damn him!  _ “I could use a tan. And blue’s my color so I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to support Rannoch’s growing economy.”

“It’s the “Archangel’s” color too, isn’t it?” said Admiral Raan.

Garrus stumbled a bit in surprise, “Uhh, oh, um? Is it? I wouldn't know. Guess I heard a little about them on Omega,” he floundered, his certainty sinking in Admiral Raan’s cool, appraising gaze.  _ So this is what a swimming turian looks like. _ Shepard thought.  _ He was right about the drowning. _ “But,” Garrus added, “From what I heard, seems like he’s a pretty cool guy. Be interesting to look into his identity if C-Sec gets up and running again.”

Admiral Raan shook her head and began walking back towards Rannoch. “I’m afraid that is one of the poorest kept secrets in the galaxy, my vigilante friend.” she called over her shoulder. Tali and Shepard began following her, Sentinel and Garrus bringinging up the rear. Sentinel was looking at Garrus with his head cocked to the side. Garrus glanced at the geth, spread his hands and said, “No idea what she means by that.”

“I am eager to be able to try and swim, though.” Tali said to Shepard. “It might be a few years before we can risk that elevated level of infection. I have always thought it looked and sounded incredible but we have never been able to maintain a large enough volume of uncontaminated water on any of our ships.” She mused, “I’m pretty sure I’ll have more success than this sinking pile of chitin.”

“Hey, we have Thulium in our carapace so we’re not particularly buoyant. I’d like to see you swim in a metal shell.”

“Careful, I’m always in a metal shell.” Tali snapped, “I could still out-swim you. Besides, the quarians who lived in seaside areas like Legion were meant to be very strong swimmers.”

“Swimming’s pretty enjoyable.” Shepard said. “It’s a lot like being in zero-g, but being able to actually propel yourself with your own strength. It’s how we used to train for space flight before our ships could generate their own gravity.”

Sentinel had moved forward to speak with Admiral Raan and Garrus drew level with Tali and Shepard. “You humans and your damn gravity.” He grumbled. “I’m never going to be able to get you off Palaven once we get there.”

Shepard frowned at him in confusion but Tali laughed knowingly. “And you can barely hold your own with her in hand to hand combat now.” she teased. He scowled at her.

“The hell am I missing here?” Shepard asked.

“Palaven’s gravity isn’t as strong as either Rannoch’s or Earth’s.” Tali said. “It’s part of why they are all so excessively tall.” she said. 

“Makes sense,” Shepard said, “But why is that a problem?”

“Because you have spent most of your life on Earth, Alliance controlled colonies, ships, or the Citadel, which mimics the gravity of the asari homeworld, which is also pretty similar. Your muscles are used to bearing your body and armor’s weight in places with heavier gravitational pulls.  
“And, apart from giving turian’s a headache,” Garrus added, “It means that you humans pack an extra punch on our home turf. All the sudden you have the same muscle strength but the world is a little less heavy. It’s part of the reason the Relay 314 Incident was so bad for us. A few humans managed to board a few Turian vessels and were able to wreak havoc we weren't prepared for because of the weaker gravity. A human invasion on Palaven was the nightmare of a lot of families for a while there.”

“So... I’m gonna be stronger than you?!” Shepard said with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that…” he growled.

“Don’t worry, Garrus,” Tali said, “If you two end up Joining you can take part in a great human matrimonial tradition. And Shepard can carry you across the threshold for your wedding night.”

“Careful vas Normandy, or you’re going to lose an investor in your vineyard.”

“Garrus, that threat is as empty as any of the bottles I sell you will be.” Tali said with an eye roll. “And unless you were wondering, your suggestions of “Archangel Vineyards” and “Archangel Coast” were a pretty big give away to the whole Admiralty Board.”

“Damn.” He muttered, a blue flush creeping across his face. “But in any case, speaking of Joining…” His eyes roved over Shepard. “The ta’hal’s a good look on you, Shepard. Brings out your eyes.” He smirked, seeing her blush. “But I still think you’d look better in turian ones...something to think about. Anyway, what were you all meeting about?” He asked, maddeningly before Shepard had a chance to react much less process the other issue he had just raised, one they actually hadn’t discussed since he was bleeding out under a pile of rubble on the Citadel. 

They had meant to talk about the things he’d said on the Citadel, the sawed-off shell casing she had locked away in her cabin, and it’s huge implications while she was recovering in the hospital. However, in the wake of discussing the horrible reason she had been able to survive, and the fact that there always seemed to be a friend or an overly curious doctor hanging around, there had never been the right moment. Since they’d begun the trip to Palaven their hands and free time had been kind of full with her nightmares, and now they were on Rannoch….and after last night…

“We are deeply thankful that the Commander is supportive of a synthetic representative being added to the Council.” said Sentinel.

Garrus nodded, sighing. “It makes all the sense in the world but it’s gonna be a hell of a tough fight. And my sniper rifle isn’t going to be of much use in this one.” He paused, tensing. “My father might be, though…”

“Your father?” Admiral Raan asked, stopping to look at him.

“Yeah, Castus Vakarian. He was pretty high up in C-Sec and Primarch  Victus  and Councilor Sparatus are old friends of his.” Garrus supplied. “And,” he added. “If getting a synthetic seat on the Council is something Shepard believes needs to happen she’s got some turian debts to call in. She saved my sorry ass, so my father owes her, she saved Palaven and helped Lieutenant Victus redeem himself, so Victus owes her, and she’s saved Sparatus’ skeptical ass twice now, so he sure as hell owes her. The other two might be able to remind him of that little fact as well.”

“We would all do well to remember her sacrifices.” Admiral Raan said softly. Shepard was never going to get used to this shit. She was starting to wonder if it was easier to have people think she was crazy and just start listening when shit hit the fan. Although her track record of not dying from that was pretty poor. Then again... she kept ending up alive again. Did that cancel things out? Admiral Raan could clearly sense her discomfort. The quarian sighed. “I do not envy you my dear.” She continued gently. “I sometimes wish, for your sake, that your roll in all this was not as prominently known.” She stared at the strands on Shepard’s skin, shining in Rannoch’s sun. “But it seems the fates have chosen to mark you, so it seems unlikely the Shepard would have ever been able to walk unknown among us.” She turned to Garrus, and Shepard was grateful to no longer be under the quarian’s piercing gaze. 

“General Vakarian,” Admiral Raan continued, “We would be grateful for any help you can offer. Especially if you believe you can somehow win the support of Councilor Sparatus. A supportive voice on the Council.” she let out a long breath, “It was something I would never have even hoped for. Who knows, perhaps quarian children and newly developed geth will be telling stories and acting out the adventures of the Archangel as well as the Shepard.” She said with a knowing smile. Garrus shifted uncomfortably, trying to look like he didn’t understand. Shepard snorted. Admiral Raan grinned and continued “Most of the quarians support having Sentinel as the one to join the Council.”

“I am honored,” Sentinel said, “that you and my fellow geth believe I would be a suitable candidate. Echo and the others of their kind that we have spoken to have expressed much the same. We asked if they would prefer to have one of their own join but, from what we have understood from them, they are not familiar with the races of this cycle or their customs. This makes them uncomfortable. They also fear judgement while bound in their current forms. They felt that a geth was a more effective choice currently.”

The group had returned to the bustling streets of Legion and, to Shepard’s surprise, saw Javik being pulled along the road by Ka’hari. When she spotted their group she began a mad dash for them, dragging Javik along by the hand behind her. Shepard couldn’t believe her eyes. The prothean must be getting soft in his post-war, hundreds-of-millions-of-years old age. Ka’hari stopped before Garrus and babbled breathlessly, “Your armor’s gone! So that’s your carapace?” she added, head tilted in consideration. “Javik! Which ridge do you stick the knife under to crack it open?”

Shepard tried not to burst out laughing. Garrus’ eyes narrowed. “Admiral Raan,” he said, staring at the tiny monster before him. “I think I need to talk to the Admiralty Board about drafting this one for the turian military. Are you positive there isn’t a tiny, bloodthirsty turian in that suit?”

“You know, I might actually consider granting your request.” She said, appraising the young quarian, “Ka’hari is actually one of our most promising young coders, but her interests do seem to be shifting in a very different direction.” She glanced at Garrus, “I don’t know though, you might need to be concerned about her dissecting her squadmates.”

“Ka’hari, your enthusiasm and drive are excellent, but you should know that Garrus is Commanda’ Shepard’s turian. She is the only one who gets to find out how he tastes.”  Garrus and Shepard both glared at the Prothean. Tali was having trouble breathing, she was laughing so hard, and even Admiral Raan let out a snort. Thank the spirits Ka’hari’s frustrated sigh made it clear that the comment seemed to have gone over the youngling’s head.

“What are you doing down here, Javik?” Shepard asked with a scowl.

‘Ka’hari believed there was some additional equipment in her mother’s lab that would be of assistance in running the new programs EDI recommended. We were on our way to retrieve it when she saw her now extremely vulnerable prey.” He said, giving Garrus a taunting once over. To Shepard’s delight she thought Garrus looked a little bashful. “It will be interesting to see Admiral Xen’s workplace.” He said with a pointed look to Shepard. She merely nodded slightly.

“I’m going to show him the VI I made!” Ka’hari said, excitedly beginning to drag the prothean along once again.

“Do not forget, Shepard,” Javik called over his shoulder, “Your lessons begin at sunset.”

  
  


Shepard was mulling over Javik’s parting words, her stomach full of apprehension, when Garrus slowed his pace, falling back from the others and murmured, “Moria.” She slowed to walk beside him, feeling tense. They hadn’t actually spoken privately yet today. The air between them was thick with tension left over from the night before. “I wanted to ask,” he continued. “Are you sure about your orders to Javik?” 

Shepard drank in the scene around her from beneath the cowl of her new ta’ hal. A little ways down the street from them an adolescent quarian was sitting on a geth’s shoulders as they finished tying the supports for a new stall they were erecting. In front of it was a sign advertising suit filters programmed to increase natural immunity to Rannoch’s microbes. Two adults walked past her, deep in discussion, their omnitools displaying the blueprint of a building. She heard them mention that large sections were ready for Echo to move. She stepped aside as a young girl, a young quarian without a mask or helmet, dashed by. Her laughter rang out and her unbound jetblack hair rippled behind her as she ran.

“I’m positive,” she said.

“Wouldn’t it be better to have Javik speak with Admiral Raan and the rest of the Admiralty Board if she starts endangering things rather than just getting rid of her?”

“There might not be time for that.” she said darkly.

“Moria, a prothean killing an Admiral, especially if it gets out it was on your orders - that could get bad very, very fast.”

She shook her head, “Thinking there will never be conflict between different groups of organics is naive.” She said. “But balance between synthetics and organics; a chance for them to learn to grow together, to actually evolve - that peace is more important than any one person, or any one species.” Her heart was beating a little faster. _ The peace will not hold. _

“If you’re sure what you’re getting into.” he said softly.

“I am!” She said. It came out more sharply than she’d intended, but before Shepard could address it Tali dropped back to them. 

“You look good in a ta’hal, Shepard.” She said, eyes smiling. “People are noticing. I think it means a lot to see you two partaking in some of our customs.” She eyed Garrus and added, “Although, if you’re not careful, Shepard, with him dressed like that, one of my people is going to grab him and start acting out scenes from Fleet and Flotilla.”

“Luckily,” Garrus said, “Once upon a time in a bar on the Citadel, Shepard actually gave me a lesson in role playing.”

“You are shameless.” Tali said, shaking her head. She was eyeing Shepard’s ta’hal, “It’s fascinating to me that Ka’hari was able to reproduce the pattern of your strands in the weave. The way they branch, the distance between lines, it's like looking at a microchip and - “ she stopped, frowning.

“What?” Shepard asked. She couldn’t tell if she was eager or apprehensive at the idea of understanding Ka’hari’s decorative choices.

“There’s a word in quarian integrated into the weave.” she said, pointing to a bit of the cloth that hung just above the center of Shepard’s brow.”

“Please tell me it doesn’t say “The Shepard.” Shepard moaned.

“No…” Tali said perplexedly. “It means ‘Mother’...”

* * *

The fading sunset painted the sea with soft oranges and pinks. Shepard walked along the gently crashing waves towards a circle of lights at the edge of the cliffs. She was at the next bay over from where Legion stood, just on the other side of the coastal rise where she had met with Echo earlier that day.  _ Damn _ had it really only been today? She was exhausted. Of course the cryptic as fuck prothean wanted to do this at the time when she felt least capable. 

She could see Javik now. The prothean was standing within a circle of torches lit by the flickering flame and dying sun. He had removed his armor and wore only a pair of shorts, leaving the interplay of muscles and exoskeleton of his form bare to the cool breeze.  _ Everyone’s getting undressed,  _ she thought. _ Rannoch’s worse than Afterlife. _ She stepped into the circle of light.

“Welcome, Commanda’” Javik said. He grinned in a way that made her wary. “Let us begin.”

*** * ***

Shepard scrambled up from the sands, swiftly brushing the grains from her face and whipping around, hands up, in a low defensive crouch. She was breathing heavily. The circle of torches swam before her, her head pounded and she was drenched in cold sweat, but not from the physical exertion. “Fasta’!” Javik barked, prowling along the line of torches before her. His four eyes shone with uncompromising steel. “In my cycle you would have been removed from your command for falling to your fears like that.” he sneered.

“At least I survived to have them.” She spat back. “No one in your precious cycle managed that.”

The prothean laughed. “Arrogance. A weak cover for your fear. And one that will leave you vulnerable.” His right arm shot out like lightning. Shepard swept a hand across herself, knocking the blow away, but before she had even finished the block Javik had grabbed her left arm and barked “Fight it!”

* * *

A rush of light filled her head. Anderson was on the ground bleeding before her. She’d shot him. The Illusive Man had made her shoot him. She was going to be sick. She scrambled across the floor of the Citadel to him, heedless of the weeping wound at her own side. She pressed her hands to the hole in the man who had taught her everything, pressing her fingers as closely together as she could, trying to stem the red tide seeping between them. “You,” Anderson coughed, “You shot me.” 

“I didn't... it wasn’t me- I’m sorry!” She gasped. The red was flowing faster. She had to stop it. “The Illusive Man, he - he made me-” She whipped her head up to glare at the monster who had made her shoot Anderson - the monster that had given the Reapers - 

But not a soul, save herself and the quickly fading Anderson, was in sight. She looked around in desperation. He had been here - she had felt her finger pull the trigger - felt herself fighting for control. “You never destroyed the human Reaper,” Anderson choked, blood painting his lips. “You gave it to Cerberus.”

“I know- I thought - I didn’t know this would happen.”

“The people on Sanctuary...you let him use them.”

She couldn’t breathe, the red kept spilling from between her hands, “No,” she gasped, “I didn’t know and I - I went to stop it.”

But the blood kept flowing. Too much for Anderson to make it, too much to be just Anderson’s. It was their blood. The blood of each of the colonists taken by the Collectors, of each of the refugees who fled blindly into the maw of Sanctuary. Her hands were painted in it as she tried to stem the tide. She had to fight. She had to fight it. She would stop the bleed, she would save Anderson. She hadn’t saved them but she would save him.

“You can hate me all you want.” She groaned. “I don’t care if you blame me. I’m going to make damn sure you live so you can blame me or hate me to the end of your days.” She swiftly lifted a hand to her omni-tool; the flow quickened alarmingly. Medi-gel. She had that. She could control the bleed. But her hand stopped above the command key. It hung frozen in mid air. 

“No, Shepard,” purred the Illusive Man, staring down at her. “We can’t keep these blind fools around to stand in our way, now can we?”

“Let me go!” she snarled, throwing every fiber of her being into that finger, a hair's breadth from helping Anderson.

“Shepard, help me,” the Captain weezed. “Please…”

“Hang on!” she panted. “Let. Me. Go.” she snarled at the Illusive Man. Shadows danced across his face as he stared down at her. “If you're so sure of yourself, of your actions, than one life isn’t going to matter to them!!!”

“But it will matter to you...”

Her heart sank. She was tired, she was so small.  _ Fight it. _

“Then I’ll avenge him.” she said, her voice ragged. “And still stop you.”

She looked down at the man who had trained her, helped her to channel her rage, shaped her character, been a father to her. The man who’d taught her to make the hard choices, to sacrifice the few to save the many. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I have to do this.” Tears streaming down her cheeks, she pulled her hand away, Anderson’s lifeblood spilling in its wake. She was about to throw herself at the Illusive Man when he spoke.

“You sure about that, Shepard?” The Illusive Man asked, eyes dancing.

She hesitated, then looked at her hands. The blood there was blue. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes snapped to Anderson, only to find him gone and see Garrus on the ground before her, drenched in blue blood, a gaping hole in his ravaged armor.

“No!” she screamed. She lunged for the wound in his side but her hands stopped inches above his carapace and would go no further.

“Doubting your choice?” hissed the Illusive Man. He laughed softly. “Sorry, no second chances, Shepard.”

“Moria…” Garrus wheezed.

She raged silently against that barrier - he was so close. She could stop it. She had to stop it. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t lose him. Garrus coughed, a trickle of blood running down his mandible. There was a rattling sigh. “Noooo!” she keened. The cry ripped out of her, leaving her breathing heavily, throat ragged. The world seemed to have stopped. There was nothing but cold, darkness and that mirror-still pool of blue blood.

“You could have saved them.” The Illusive Man said softly with the whispering croon of a lover. “Destroyed the human Reaper... stopped me... and saved him.”

“I...I thought it could help. I just wanted to help” she whispered to the void.

“Why do you think the Reapers were drawn to you and your cycle? Why do you think you found the beacon?” He grinned like a wolf, but Shepard felt no fear. It was like she was gazing into a mirror. “You cannot help, Shepard. You can only destroy.”

Everything stilled. Everything quieted. There was nothing left in the universe but the two of them. She gazed into his bright eyes, burning inside that face twisted with strands of black, of Reaper corruption.

“Then I’ll destroy you.” she said softly and released a blast of all her biotic power.

* * *

There was a flash of green and Javik stumbled back from Shepard, releasing his hold on her arm. Shepard swayed, took a few steps towards the line of torches, dropped to her knees and vomited.

“Betta’.” Javik said. “You were fasta’ that time.” She turned to look up at him, wiping her mouth with her hand. She sat in the sand, not bothering to test her unsteady legs just yet when she could feel the rest of herself still shaking. Clothed only in fitted pants and the supportive bra that she wore beneath her armor, the cool air kissed her sweat slick skin. Their sparring rounds went quickly. A few exchanged blows till the prothean found a vulnerability and used it to catch her and read the nightmares lurking in the shadows of her mind, plunging her into them till she could fight her way out. Javik tilted his head to the side a little, considering her. “You are fearless and clear of mind when you have nothing to lose.” he said softly. “It is having something to lose that terrifies you.”

“No shit.” She grumbled, spitting dregs of bile into the sand.

“And you regret your choice.” 

“I - no - I…” she closed her eyes tightly, trying to control her breath. “Some of them. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Do you regret your choices of not?” Javik pressed, crossing the circle to her.

“I’m not sure, ok? It’s hard to tell.” Uncharacteristically, he held out a hand to help her up. “I’m trying,” Shepard said, taking his offered hand. “I don’t know-”

But Javik interrupted, yanking her to her feet and snapping, “You know!”

* * *

There was another blinding flash of light. Anderson stood before her, gesturing to the Crucible. The sky was full of fire and flashes of light. Alliance and alien ships were being torn apart by Reapers, and below the two humans, Earth’s cities burned.

“Do it, Shepard!” Anderson cried over the howling that was filling her ears. His face was lined with grief and panic, lit by the growing inferno of his homeworld. “What are you waiting for?” he called. “Destroy them!”

“Anderson - I”

“You can save our people, Shepard!” he interrupted, “So what the hell are you waiting for? Our people are dying out there!”

“Anderson, the Reapers-”

Shepard heard engines roar and saw an all too familiar ship streak across the sky.  _ The Normandy. _ A Reaper was gaining on it - its behemoth arms reaching for the small ship-

“What are you doing, Shepard!” Anderson shook his head in rage at her, tears spilling down his face. “My people are dying, do something!” A blade of red light cut through the sky, turning the Normandy into a blossom of fire.

* * *

“No!” Shepard barked, shoving Javik into the sand with a blast of green light. The prothean landed hard, but snorted and stared up at her with satisfaction. Shepard was breathing hard, trying to see the sand and sea before her, trying to see anything other than the halo of fire that had been the Normandy which still burned in her mind. “What the hell! I wasn’t ready!” She snarled. 

“You are never ready.” He said. “No warrior can be. The day you are ready is the day you die.” He pushed himself to his feet. “You must meet what comes regardless of your balance or preparation on the battlefield or in your mind.” His tone darkened. “My people perished because we focused on being  _ ready.  _ We ran. We created blockades. We focused on buying time instead of facing what was there. And so when the blow landed, we fell, and the protheans will never rise again.” The firelight danced in the grief and determination in his eyes as he began circling her. “I will not let you make the same mistake.”

“What are you talking about?” Shepard said, creeping backwards, countering his advance. “The battle for Earth is over. The Reapers are freed” she said, her feet whispering across the sand to keep the ancient warrior an arm’s length away.

“Yes, Shepard.” Javik said softly. “But you and I know the battle has only begun.” He whirled, a leg arcing through the air. She ducked and aimed a blow to his exposed side, but he caught her hand in his fist.

* * *

“Why do you think the Reapers were drawn to you and your cycle? Why do you think you found the beacon?” She could hear the Illusive Man’s voice even as she stood alone on the Citadel staring at the two small pillars of rippling light. “You cannot help, Shepard. You can only destroy.” 

The whispered words hit the mark. Destruction, it seemed, always followed in her wake. But it wasn’t her fault. They didn’t listen. They didn’t see. No one heeded her warnings, got out of her way so she could do what she must until the last second. She’d even had to commandeer her own damn ship. It wasn’t her. If she was in charge from the beginning, if she had ever had the opportunity to get a handle on things before they slipped away...

The pillars of light danced before her eyes. Behind them the sky was a sea of growing wreckage. Debris from eviscerated dreadnaughts drifted among the stars. They created a labyrinth of death and destruction. The too-small alliance ships wove through it all in a deadly dance, as the shadowy masses of the Reapers sailed through unencumbered. The battle was getting out of control. Shepard could read a sky full of ships like she could read her own name. The story of their loss w as being written in the stars before her.

“Why do you think the Reapers were drawn to you and your cycle? Why do you think you found the beacon?” The voice whispered. 

Someone had to do it. Someone had to do something. Shepard heard engines roar and saw an all too familiar ship streak across the sky.  _ The Normandy. _ A Reaper was gaining on it - its behemoth arms reaching for the small ship-

Shepard seized the columns of light, and in a blaze she was gone. Light ripped out through the sky, washing over the Reapers like a baptismal wave. They halted in its wake, save for one that wrapped arms around a small quicksilver ship in a protective embrace, shielding it from the mire of debris in its path. With a single thought, she called the harvesting, teeming horde to a halt. 

The organics slowly began to pick themselves up. She felt a cool purpose in the quiet, in the wake of the carnage.  _ Help.  _ She ordered with a thought _. Rebuild. _ The words echoed from her mind like the crack of a whip, and as far as the stars reached, backs bent in answer. 

She had saved them. Now she would protect them. She would ensure that the warrior in blue landed safely upon his ravaged world; that his sky was never darkened again, except by her ever-watching shadow.

But there were screams. Not from outside. No more fires raged, no ships tumbled from the  sky, no cities crumbled in the Reapers’ path. Yet still there were the screams. Echoing inside her, inside her mind. A multitude of voices, thousands of different tongues crying out against her yolk. She was enraged. She had saved them. She had taken over and made sure there would be peace, that no more would suffer in this war. She lashed out to silence the voices, to bend them towards her will. But the screams still echoed; screams only she could hear.

* * *

She yelled out as she pinned Javik to the sands. She could see him again, although now green light danced with the firelight across his body. Her eyes - the strands - they were glowing again.  _ Shit. _

“Breathe, Shepard” he croaked from beneath her. 

She stared down at the creature from another world, another time, the soldier of a conquering empire who had spent the evening walking through her mind. “Would they have wanted me to control them?” she asked softly. “Would Protheans have chosen to control the Reapers?”

His gaze did not falter. “Yes.” he said, then in a tone she had never heard before “And would have condemned countless to that silent eternal suffering. I am grateful the choice fell to a wiser organic being.”

Shepard laughed. “I don’t think that fits me.”

“Do you regret your choice?”

“No.”

“You fear what now may be lost?”

“Yes.” she said, and that voice, _The peace will not hold, e_ choed in her mind.

“Yet you are haunted by what you might have done.” He said. He gestured for her to follow and stepped beyond the circle of torches, long strides carrying him towards the silver waves. “You are haunted by the world we may have seen in the wake of your actions.” The flames danced on the crashing waves behind them as he stepped into the shallows, creating his own wake behind him. She followed him into the water, its chilly caress a balm on her body, sore from their exchanges. “What do you doubt if not your choices?”

The water was at her waist now. Shepard stared down. Rannoch’s air was so clear that the light from its twin moons danced everywhere, turning the rippling ocean into a reflective glass. She could see herself, in the waters, the gleaming strands across her skin seeming to have their own life in the gently undulating water. Finally she answered, “I’m scared of the reasons I wanted to make a different choice. And…” The strangely luminous eyes of her reflection gazed back at her from the water. “...of what I have become.”

The beach darkened for a moment and in the distance Shepard saw that two Reapers had flown to the bay. She and Javik stood and watched them. “We are about to go to war once again.” Javik said softly. “But rather than fighting a forgotten enemy, we must fight for our forgotten families and those who were taken along with them.” He said softly. “Can I tell you a secret, Comanda’?”

Shepard frowned. “Okay…”

“I have studied every type of battle known to my cycle, every strategy and theory. But this coming war…” he paused and took a deep breath. “This type of war is completely unknown to me. Just as your abilities are a mystery.” He raised his chin and stared at her, “It will be most fascinating to walk into this battle alongside the unknown weapon that you have become.” he grinned. “I am grateful to have awoken in a cycle where you keep things interesting.”

The wind tossed Shepard’s hair. The Reapers drifted low over the sea, trailing their impossibly long limbs in the water just as Shepard had trailed her glowing fingers moments ago.

* * *

Shepard paced her moonlit cabin restlessly, her hair still damp from the shower, her muscles still aching slightly from training with Javik. She was exhausted but she couldn’t sleep. The bed behind her was empty, the blankets only disturbed on one side. Her side. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Things hadn’t exactly been comfortable between them today. Despite still being angry in the morning she hadn’t had the strength (physically or emotionally) to stop him from helping her after she connected with Echo. When he was getting out of the water...well, she’d had some difficulty with control and concentration at that point, too. Neither of them had behaved in a way that let anyone else know that it wasn’t business as usual between the two of them, but she could feel the strain. Having him question her orders to Javik had been frustrating. He wasn’t part of the Alliance. She only outranked him if they were on the  _ Normandy _ . They were equals on Rannoch. Well, he was her equal anywhere in the way that really mattered to her. Their argument the night before had made her feel cornered. She felt trapped by all this: the nightmares, the politics, the negotiations. All she wanted right now was a clear enemy she could shoot at.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She hadn’t actually spent a lot of time on relationships. She’d had plenty of flings, and some that were more than that, but she didn’t have nearly as much experience with them as she did with battle strategy, firefights, saving the universe or…. dying, I guess… Everything had been so clear and simple going into the battle for Earth, and when she woke up in the hospital. Him. He was everything. All she wanted was for them not to all die and him to be there. How did things seem more complicated now? She knew they both still wanted those things. So why was it feeling harder to make it happen?

She glared at the empty bar, devoid of glasses or bottles of alcohol in the wake of last night’s nightmare. She’d kill for a drink right now; or for something else involving a seven foot, long-tongued Turian that also took the edge off. The soft celestial light was dancing on the floor of the cabin, the wavering light entrancing. She wasn’t sure how long she had been watching it now.

“You are coming to regret your choice.” said a soft, all-too familiar voice.

Shepard whirled from the window and found the figure of a small boy formed of wavering blue light standing before her. The Conduit stared at her, its eyes full of an ageless, ancient apathy. “You rejected the options I laid before you.” It continued. “In your short lived ignorance you forged a path that can only lead back to chaos.”

She was breathing hard. ”You're not here.” she said firmly, “We overwrote you. The Reapers don't need a Conduit anymore.” She took a deep breath and glared at the Child. “I am dreaming. You are not here.”

“If they do not need a conduit then why were you changed by the Crucible?” It asked softly. “And just because you’re dreaming doesn’t mean I am not still here.”

“No, you are not here.” Shepard repeated. She pressed with her mind towards the Child, as she had when working with Javik, extending her arm and releasing a blast of her biotics. A flash of light streaked from her and sped across the room, flashing straight through the Conduit’s rippling form and slamming into the floor behind it. The figure remained staring at her.

“You were selfish and short sighted. This peace will not hold. You made the mistake of all organics and only considered what was immediate.”

“I was not selfish.” she spat. “I fucking died.”

“But you would not make the difficult choice required.” Its voice grew louder and the light that made up its form seemed to crackle. “The peace will not hold. Synthetics and organics will once again be at war. It has already begun. You cannot-” There was a flash of green light and the Conduit looked to the side, brow furrowed in frustration, as if looking at something or someone Shepard could not see. “No. You cannot be.” it said. It flickered from existence for a moment replaced by a column of green light, then returned. “You cannot exist. You did not endure. This is not-” there was a flash of green light, this time shaped like a slim, horned figure. A blinding pain filled Shepard’s head. She shielded her eyes.

* * *

Shepard opened her eyes and found herself standing, forehead pressed against the window of her cabin. She blinked and pushed back, gazing around the room. Was she sleepwalking now? That was great. Also, did that count as facing the dream and fighting her way out? Had that flash of green light been from her? She needed to move. She clearly wasn’t going to get any real sleep. Maybe an hour on the gun range would calm her down and wear her out? She walked towards the door but stopped just short of opening it. She heard something shift on the other side of the door. _ Dammit, Garrus. _ He was out there - she could feel it. She turned her back to the door, leaned against it for a moment and then slid down to the floor, her head back in frustration. She wanted to go shoot something. She wanted to ask him to come inside. Her chest felt tight and she couldn't find a way to do either. She gazed across her cabin, devoid of glass objects, and… there was a mark on the floor. The kind of mark that was made from a biotic impact. She frowned. She’d fired the blast in her dream, not while she was awake… She buried her head in her hands.

Garrus sat on the other side of the door. He could smell she was right behind him. In that moment he was deeply grateful to the spirits for his predator’s senses. Being able to smell her so close and hear her breathing; if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was in the bed beside her instead of sitting in a cold hallway. But he would wait. He had stayed working late in the battery, checking over comms with Traynor to see if Shepard had returned to the  _ Normandy  _ yet, and then waiting, hoping he would hear her open the door as he worked at the control panel. But that door had remained shut. A few hours after she had come back up to the ship he hadn’t been able to stop from wandering to her cabin. He purposely walked past it a few times, continuing his aimless wandering from the night before, but when he caught some strange looks while passing the mess for the fourth time, and awkwardly bumped into Liara walking towards Shepard's cabin at a stupidly late hour, he surrendered and let himself just stand across the hall, staring at the door. It was fine. If she wanted space he’d give her space… but he’d be here just in case.

* * *

“And when this is over, I’ll be waiting for you.” Garrus’ voice filled her head as a sweeping, brushing sensation pushed through her mind. She tried to focus on her connection to Echo, to understanding the strange way the creatures communicated, rather than the growing, gnawing guilt that his voice and those words sparked in her.  _ Sentinel.  _ She thought, bringing the image of the Geth to mind.  _ Me _ . She pictured herself standing before the Council on the citadel.  _ Protect you. Speak for you. Care for friend. _ This was harder. How to communicate to Echo that she would try to make sure they and the others had a place in this galaxy. That they had rights? She thought of her crew. Eating together at a table full of different races. The circle of them dancing in Anderson’s apartment. Pulling Garrus to his feet, helping Tali to the  _ Normandy  _ when she’d taken a bullet. Javik whispering secrets to a laughing Ka’hari.  _ Care for friend. _

She felt another brushing sensation in her mind. She was grateful she had been able to coach Eco into accessing her memories in a less painful manner than their first encounter. It had taken a few tries, but thoughts of open wounds, omni blades, varren fangs, and that sensation of talons digging into her mind seemed to have done the trick. Whatever they were, they had bodies that understood pain and bled in their own way. Shepard had yet to see a clear image of how the creatures had looked before they were harvested. She merely had impressions of wings, strong steel-like feathers, talons and unimaginable freedom and mobility. She wasn’t sure if they had simply seen no cause to share with her what they were, or if the details of their real forms had become lost to them in the ageless dark they had endured in the Reapers’ snare. Shepard feared it was the latter. Her own identity had slipped away from her when she had established the connection with the Conduit. She could remember being aware of light, of the ship and an absence of any personal identity. She hoped it would return. The brushing sensation brought Wrex’s voice to her mind this time, clear as if the Krogan was standing next to her, “Maybe when this war is over you can come live on Tuchanka. You’d fit right in.” Then she heard Garrus’ drawl with another flash of guilt “I’m supposed to hate Krogan but you came along and warmed my heart with your winning personality.” Shepard felt a curious nudge as Echo sought confirmation. _Yes._ Shepard thought. _Care for friend._ _Rannoch home._

There was another brush through Shepard’s mind and this time she saw Ka’hari and heard the child's bright voice say “she was scared last time but he punched her, and he said he’d protect you.” Then Echo pressed  _ Shared home. _ Relief and joy filled Shepard. She tried to let those feelings flow out of her.  _ Shared home.  _ She pressed back. The next part was tricky again.

She thought of herself,  _ Shepard. _ She thought of the curious young Quarian,  _ Ka’hari.  _ She thought of Sentinel’s shining form and Javik at the table of papers  _ Sentinel, Javik.  _ She called to mind the impressions of the Echo she had received,  _ Echo.  _ Carefully, trying to measure her breath, trying to control her emotions, she thought of a Reaper, its laser blasting an Alliance vessel, and then thought of the carnage on the Echo’s homeworld she had seen.  _ Reaper.  _ She thought. Then she filled her mind with what she had seen last night. The two towering dark forms skimming the waves before the sunset. The peaceful playfulness of that simple act and what it meant to see it. Then she pressed curiously to the Echo, her mind blank and questioning. She could feel motion and hear whispers of the thousands of voices all around her. Thank the spirits she’d been able to coax them to this whispering level of activity. Despite her best efforts, Echo was not particularly good at engaging one voice, or a unified voice. Not that she could blame it. The thing had been without contact or communication for cycles and eons. Who could blame the bits of individual cognition remaining for wanting to engage. She felt Echo begin to press something back. An image of the Reapers here on Rannoch and others in the sky over Earth, drifting away from the ships and the Citadel. Fleeing, escaping, rising up into the stars.  _ Ascendant. _

Shepard pushed back the image of the two Reapers over the water.  _ Ascendant. _ Her head was beginning to swim. This time communicating with Echo had been easier, not nearly as overwhelming, but she could feel it was still draining. She felt a sensation of concern, an image of a wing tucking something small close to a larger body. Saw Garrus looking exhausted leaning over the control panel in the battery and heard her own voice say, “you look like shit, Vakarian.” She felt a laugh rise up inside her.  _ Ok,  _ she pressed back. _ Goodbye,  _ and waited for the connection to be severed. She had yet to find that she could end their communication. That ability, for now, seemed to remain only with Echo. Shepard heard her own voice again, this time weary, ragged and rasping “I think you earned a rest.” A blur of images began to flash through her mind,  _ Xen and Ka’hari. Blinding green light. The strands sprawling over her skin _ . Her heart ached as she heard Anderson as well. “Think how proud your kids would be, telling everyone their… their mom is Commander Shepard.” A pair of green eyes blazed before her, there was a flash. 

Shepard’s eyes opened and she felt herself fall backwards and land roughly on Rannoch’s rocky ground. She stared up at Echo, and watched the lines of green light slowly fade across the Reaper- across the Ascendant’s form. She felt lost and confused. Echo, despite seeming to prefer communicating via it’s or Shepard’s own memories, was remarkably clear, but for the life of her she could not fathom why Echo had caused her to recall Anderson’s final words. Her confusion grew as the behemoth's form shrank before her eyes as it ascended into the heavens.

***

“The Ascendant.” Liara said softly, watching as the other Reaper drifted low over the bay. Echo was lost somewhere above them. Shepard took a swig from the container of water that the asari had offered her. Shepard wasn’t sure how she felt about the fact that Garrus hadn’t been the one to offer her the drink, despite the fact that she had seen his eyes flash to it when he’d heard how dry her voice was after being connected to Echo. But it had been two nights now that she had spent on her own, and she had engaged Liara, not him, in conversation on the way here.

“It is a strong name,” said Javik, nodding. Admiral Xen rolled her eyes and snorted. Javik frowned at her.

“It’s pretentious.” The Admiral said. “They nearly wipe out all life in the galaxy, decide their current name has too troubling of a history so they want a new one, and now they pick something that means ‘rising in power and influence.’ A political move if ever I saw one.”

“That is not all it can mean.” Countered Admiral Ra’an. The elder Quarian crossed from where she had stood staring down at Legion and entered the shadows of the tent where the others were gathered. “Ascendent is also known to mean ‘ancestor or forebearer,’ and I think that is a remarkably appropriate way to think of them.”

“They are not our ancestors.” Xen said.

“How can we know?” Said Admiral Ra’an. “The predecessors of the salarians and asari and many other races lived in Javik’s time. Somehow enough of them survived to grow, to evolve, to become the races we share our days with now. How can you know that there is no link between us and Echo’s people?” She began sifting through the papers that littered the table, covered with Javik’s elegant sketches of buildings, symbols, strange ships and long forgotten creatures that he had glimpsed by making physical contact with Echo. Some of the sketches were Liara’s; notable for their confident lines and the many notes in the asari’s tiny neat handwriting. Shepard cringed mentally as she saw the sketches she herself had made. They were particularly evident as they were clumsy and crude and, in her opinion, looked like they should have been done by a two year old sibling of Ka’hari’s. To Shepard’s distress, Admiral Ra’an stopped holding one of Shepard’s monstrosities. She had tried to draw the city she saw when connected to Echo… although the result really only looked like a spiky crown made from swiss cheese. Admiral Ra’an turned and raised the paper, gazing from it out to the spire in the center of Legion. Shepard’s breath caught. Despite the crudeness of her drawing she could see that the spacing and shape of the spires of Legion were almost an exact match to those she had drawn. “And perhaps, more importantly,” Admiral Ra’an said. “Shouldn’t we believe we might all be connected? That each of us - turian, quarian, human, geth and AI - have common ancestors? Common founders and creators? Perhaps if we spent more time thinking of each other's ancestors as our own, we would be less hasty to blow each other out of the skies.” Shepard’s heartbeat quickened with hope at the Admiral's words.

Admiral Xen shifted restlessly. “Inter-clan wars are as ancient and prevalent as wars between different species. Wars have begun between family members. Just because we think we are all related isn’t going to create eternal peace.”

Admiral Ra’an seemed to be tense for a moment. Then sighed and let the paper drift back on to the table with the others. “Perhaps not, Daro, but you can forgive an old woman for her wild dreams.” She turned to Shepard. “Pretentious in the view of some or not, it is what they wish to be called, and so the Admiralty Board will make it known here on Rannoch and begin to get the word out to the other planets.” 

Shepard nodded. “And I’ll start arguing with the Council about Sentinel representing the geth, ascendant and other artificial life.”

“We will help however we can.” Said Admiral Ra’an. “Now, let’s allow these three to get back to work,” Admiral Ra’an said, nodding to Xen, Liara and Javik. “There is something Tali and I want to show you, Shepard.”

Leaving the others behind to piece together fragments of a long forgotten past, Shepard walked down the coastal bluff with Admiral Ra’an in companionable silence, Tali and Garrus behind them, deep in discussion about his favorite quarian foods so far. They descended back into the crowded riot of color and life that filled the labyrinthine streets of Legion. While stopping so that Garrus could purchase something he had dragged them to find (having smelled it from two streets and an alley away) Shepard felt a surprising heat on the back of her neck. Her head snapped around and she automatically lowered into a little bit of a crouch. Sudden hot things were almost never good in her line of work. Before her a quarian woman had a large metal structure containing a growing flame. Shepard slowly crossed to the booth. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen fire outside of something involving death and destruction or a severe electrical issue. Historically it had been a way of cooking food, but she had not seen any of the stalls along the streets implying anything so rudimentary.

The quarian took a long metal pole and stuck it into a shadow sitting in the heart of the fire. She pulled the pole back out, its end now covered in something that seemed t o glow. The quarian attached the opposite end of the pole to an apparatus at the end of her mask and stood still. The light at the end of the pole began to grow and grow, as the quarian slowly rotated the pole. Once it had reach ed a certain size, she detached the pole from her mask and began shaping the growing light with a pair of metal tongs and blades, reattaching the pole to her mask and increasing the glowing thing’s size every now and then. 

“What is that?” Shepard breathed when Admiral Ra’an came to stand beside her. Shepard was entranced and couldn’t bring herself to stop watching whatever was happening before her. The glowing orb was beginning to take a tapered shape on one end as the quarian worked.

“Na’haria is a glass blower.” Said Ra’an.

“That’s glass?” Shepard asked.

“Yes, she is an artist who chooses to use an ancient technique. Sand is heated in the flames till it melts. She dips that hollow pole in it and then blows air through the filter on her mask down the pole to create a bubble of glass and shape all sorts of wondrous things.” Na’haria nodded silently to Admiral Ra’an. She disconnected the pole from her mask once again and placed the glowing glass on a metal counter before her, then severed the molten glass from the pole. With a few deft movements of tongs and blades, Shepard watched the tapered cylinder take the shape of a slim and elegantly curved pitcher. It was one of the most miraculous things she had ever seen.

“I’ve wanted to make things this way for years.” Na’haria said to them as she worked. “I think it’s like magic. I read about it when I was a girl on the Tombay and wanted to try it but Admiral Kill Joy over here would never let me. I had to wait for my pilgrimage to learn to do it.”

Admiral Ra’an let out a good natured laugh despite the clear insubordination. “My poor, tortured little artist. How ever did you grow into such a...almost well adjusted woman with that nasty Admiral forbidding you to play with open flames on the ships that were our only home?” Shepard could see Na’haria glaring at the Admiral through her mask, but Ra’an’s eyes were still smiling. “Well you have plenty of space for your fires and plenty of sand to play with now, little one.” She glanced at Shepard. “That was the other great crime of ‘Admiral Kill Joy’; not allowing her to load tons of specialty sand onto our ships instead of, you know, food or medical supplies.”

“What’s the point of being a Migrant Fleet if we can’t take advantage of the amazing materials we come across!” Na’haria wined, clearly falling back into an argument that was all too familiar to these two.

“As I have said since you got your first suit, the  _ point _ of the Migrant Fleet was to keep us alive so that one day spoiled, impassioned geniuses like yourself could live and create in the open air, and oh look, with a little help from The Shepard, all of Admiral Kill Joy’s work paid off.”

Shepard was really going to have to talk to Ra’an about this “The Shepard” nonsense. Na’haria grumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘took you long enough’, but Admiral Ra’an just laughed again. Na’haria’s creation had clearly cooled and now Shepard could recognize it as a glittering green-blue pitcher. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” she said.

“Oh,” said Na’haria, smoothing back and adjusting her emerald Ta’hal. “You should see it when it’s finished!” She pulled a piece of canvas off a rack just to Shepard’s left, revealing dozens of sets and pieces of sparkling glassware. There were animals, ships, and strange abstract shapes. Bowls, large and small, caught Rannoch’s afternoon sun and each shelf of the display was painted in pools of color from the colored glass. Na’haria had made pieces of every color imaginable. 

“They are all made from Rannoch’s sand.” Na’haria said, eyes gleaming. 

“How are there so many colors?” Shepard asked. “Do you add a synthetic coloring agent?”

“No.” Snorted Na’haria. “The sands of different places produce different colors. That’s why I’ll never forgive Admiral Fuss Bucket for not letting me collect more over the years. These colors are from all over Rannoch. I’ve been flying across the whole planet for months testing and collecting samples.” A pitcher in the center of several short glasses with silver writing around their tops caught her eye. Na’haria’s sharp eyes didn’t miss Shepard’s interest. “Go ahead and pick it up.” She said.

“Are you sure?” Shepard asked. She didn’t have the best track record with delicate things. Or glass things for that matter.

“Rannoch is a strong world.” Na’haria said. “It’s spirit and earth are hard to break.” Shepard lifted one of the glasses from a set. “The decanter I am working on now will go with a set of glasses like those.” Na’haria supplied a smile. The glass was a soft blue that offset the silver script on the outside just below the rim.

“What does the writing say?” Shepard asked, noticing that the same characters decorated each glass and the lip and handle of the pitcher.

“I drink to my friends at my side and those who await me in the stars. We drink to the day we walk together in our home.” Na’haria’s eyes gleamed and she and Admiral Ra’an shared a long look.

“That’s beautiful.” Shepard whispered.

“It is an old quarian toast.” Said Ra’an softly. “One I hope we always keep close to our hearts.”

“Where is the glass you used in the new piece from?” Shepard asked. The green-blue glass made the light dance and made her think of tropical waters. 

Na’haria lifted the piece in question and began rubbing it with a cloth. “The sands I am using for this came from the north where we first landed and the fallen Reaper was. I was up there a few weeks ago.” Now that the glass was closer, Shepard could see that there seemed to be flecks of silver suspended in the glass, looking like sparks of sunlight on water. “It was from a desert gully upwind of where the Reaper was. I think it might be starting to weather and mix with the sands because it’s been particularly hard to work with. I haven’t been able to stop trying though. The color and way it casts the light is different from the others.”

“Some beauty from a place of battle.” Admiral Ra’an said with a smile. “Of course you would find that. I figured putting up with you over the years would pay off somehow.” Shepard expected Na’haria to bite back with another retort, but the quarian merely seemed to straighten with pride.

“Are you two done window shopping?” Tali asked, coming to stand behind them. She was sipping something in a container through the port in her mask and Garrus stood behind her eating something on a metal stick, his long blue tongue catching spices and morsels from the edge of his mouth and mandibles. “We’re running late.”

Tali began to drag them through the streets towards the Memorial Spire at an ever-increasing pace. Shepard wasn’t sure if it was just that her quarian friend was indeed in a great hurry or if the past two nights of solo, unrestful sleep were really beginning to wear on her more than she had realized, but Shepard was actually struggling to keep up as they wound through the geth and quarians that filled the stre ets. “Tali, where are we-” but Shepard’s question was cut short as they stopped at an elegant gate in the middle of a long wall.

“In here - and stay quiet if you can.” Shepard looked to Admiral Ra’an, who simply shrugged, not supplying any additional information. Tali opened the door and Shepard and the others followed her into a large garden courtyard. A group of quarians and a few geth were gathered at its center. Vines climbed the walls of the lovely space they had stepped into. Lush and colorful plants lined a walkway leading to the assembly of people before them and the open spaces of the courtyard were covered with a short, dark purple and green grass-like plant. There was a bubbling water feature in one corner and a sparkling stream in a mosaic-tiled streambed sparkled as it wove through the vegetation. The plantings and water gave the space a peaceful but joyous feel. 

They followed Tali along the walkway to the others in the courtyard who stepped aside so that Shepard could finally see what held their attention. Several quarian and Sentinel were squatting and kneeling around a young, heavily pregnant quarian without her suit. She was propped up slightly in the lap of another female, this one wearing her suit, but not her mask. The pregnant Quarian was instead draped in an intricately decorated one-shouldered robe and breathing hard. The woman behind her was stroking her hair and muttering soothing and encouraging words in her ear and the pregnant woman groaned.

“This is Tirana and Nek’ata vas Tombay” Tali whispered to Shephard. “They asked me to bring you to witness this if you were still on Rannoch when it happened.”

“Tirana’s vitals are stable.” Said Sentinel. “I am not reading any infections currently. The enhanced antibodies are currently maintaining appropriate levels.” Nek’ata nodded at Sentinel’s words and continued stroking Tirana’s hair. “Tirana, it is now necessary for you to actively contract your pelvic muscles again. Do you agree, Dr. Morhea?” 

“Sentinel’s right Tira, come on, should be the final one.”

Shepard wasn’t sure what to feel. Nothing had prepared her for this. She felt very out of place but there was no time to try and tactfully extricate herself as Tirana’s face contorted with pain. She cried out, her hands clenching Nek’ata’s, and let out a cry of pain. Another set of cries answered the new mothers’. After a few deft movements the doctor lifted a tiny, purple-skinned, three fingered infant in another heavily decorated piece of fabric and placed it in Tirana’s arms. The two women beamed down at their new child. 

“The infant’s vitals are strong and stable.” Said Sentinel. “I am detecting similar elevated levels of antibodies. Prenatal anti-infectant infusions currently seem to be successfully supporting her immune system.”

“Admiral Ra’an?” Called the doctor softly.

Admiral Ra’an stepped forward from beside Shepard. She lifted her hands and with a click and hiss removed her mask, slipping it into a pocket of her suit. She moved forward into the center of the group and picked up a small clay bowl that was lying on the ground. Using the edge of the bowl, she dug into the dirt and sand beside the stream, catching some of the earth in the bowl and then dipped it into the dancing waters. She kneeled beside the new mothers and dipped a finger in the bowl, stirring the earth and water together slowly as she spoke.

“I and the ancestors welcome you, Little One. Our hearts are full of joy that you come to sing with us this day.” The baby, who had been making small sounds in its mother's arms, let out a louder cry, which was gently shushed with a kiss and gentle rocking. The Admiral beamed, the smile wrinkling her gently lined face. “And what a strong song you have. You are welcomed to the ranks of the Tombay, the Migrant Fleet and quarian people. Keelah Se'lai, child. May your heart be filled with as many joys as there are stars in our skies and ancestors who will watch over you. We name you Com’ari for your bravery and spirit, for you are a first of your kind.” Admiral Ra’an took her damp finger from the bowl and traced a line of earth across the child’s head. “May the earth of your home bless you and may you grow as strong as its spirit, Com’ari’Ranta nar Rannoch.”

Nek’ata’s face was wet with tears. “Thank you Auntie Ra’an.” she said softly. Ra’an grinned. “Just make sure she learns to fly my ships as well as you do.”


	7. The Ancient and Uncharted

Javik watched Liara’s ever shifting face as she attempted to communicate with Echo. The rush of thoughts, sensations, images and feelings the asari experienced through their connection made her face spasm and twitch like she was being tickled by a small insect and needed to sneeze. Watching it made Javik feel odd. Like he wanted to shoot or blast anything that came near her. He had laughed the first time he watched her do it, but fortunately she had been too engrossed in what Echo was sharing to notice or remember.

She and Echo were silhouetted against the fading afternoon sunlight. The trailing crests on the asari’s head against the bright sky were like a tiny mirror image of the Ascendent’s tapered head. He still found it strange that Liara, the complicated creature he now knew so well, was the same species as the quick, flighty, pack species he had encountered in his cycle. Asari could be problematic if you encountered a whole pack of then. Their biotics and mind melding abilities made it easy for the pack to follow complicated orders from the alpha with no way for their prey to know what was happening. A lone asari, however, was likely to bolt in the opposite direction and stay as far away from other creatures as possible.

The first few times he had argued with Liara or when she’d come to his cabin on the  _ Normandy  _ and pestered him with a litany of questions about protheans, he had spent the whole time waiting for her to get spooked and flee the room. She never had, and had either ignored his aggression and disdain, driven by her insatiable curiosity, or been more than ready to fight back and put him in his place. It impressed him, given how easily shaped and influenced her people had been. She had been unflinching even when he had been at his worst.

_ His heart was pounding and rage filled every fiber of his being. In the wake of the blinding green light, the Reapers had been retreating into the sky. He did not know what Shepard had done to cause them to halt their attack but he did not care. She had said she would do whatever it took. She had wasted the opportunity his civilization sacrificed themselves to create. He did not understand the Reapers retreat but he knew it could only be temporary. They would return, and everything that his family, his soldiers, and his people had died for would be in vain. He doubted they would even be remembered given how primitive the asari and salarians were. If he and his civilization were to be lost to the ageless forgotten dark, then Shepard would be too. _

_ * * * _

_ The Normandy had made a mad dive out of the sky; the idiot human pilot, Joker, risking all their lives in the maneuver. Somehow they had been missed by the crumbling debris of the Citadel. Liara, Wrex, Grunt and Ashley, now in command of the Normandy, had managed to haul the turian and human bodies back onto the ship. They had immediately been carried off for medical attention. Williams bellowed into the comms: “I need all medical to sickbay. And Chakwas, that turian better not die on me. I am not dealing with Shepard’s ghost.” _

_ Liara’s omni-tool had been unable to find any signs of life on Shepard. She’d had Vega rush Shepard to the sick bay. Javik headed to the bridge, taking a moment to stare out at the retreating Reapers. The comms were carrying updates on the captain and turian. He could hear one of Chakwas’ medical aids: “It’s weak but I'm reading a heartbeat. There is extensive fracturing of the carapace and significant blood loss. Initiating dextros transfusions…..no heartbeat. She’s got a punctured lung. No neuro function.”  _

_ “Get her into the stasis pod.” Said Chakwas. “Maybe I can try and-”  _

_ But Williams cut her off. “Garrus is the only one showing vital signs. He is your priority.” _

_ “But Shepard-” Chakwas protested. _

_ “Would tell you the same thing if she could talk. Have your team do what you can for her.” The Spectre barked. “Get that turian stabilized and then… I’m not losing more of her people than we already have.” _

_ Some of the Alliance ships were in pursuit of the Reapers. Javik did not understand why they were not being shot down. They had some other fell scheme, he was sure. _

_ “Joker,” Williams ordered over the comms, “Get us to the nearest Relay and into a salarian system, stat.”  _

_ “Aye-aye.” Called Joker from where he sat before Javik _ _.  _ _ The pilot began shifting the Normandy's flight path and Javik felt the ship accelerate drastically.  _

_ “Chakwas” Williams continued. “Can you hold him till we can get to a medical center?” _

_ “I think so.” Said Chakwas. _

_ “Williams, we have a problem.” Joker called. Javik tensed. Several Reapers occupied the space between the Normandy and the Relay. “We have hostiles up ahead,” The pilot added. “The Normandy’s shields are already compromised and our best option to restore them is running out of blue blood. We can’t take another hit from the Reapers, we’ll-” _

_ “The Reaper’s aren’t a problem anymore, Joker. Maintain course and get us to a salarian system.” _

_ Joker scowled, shaking his head and snarled, “Ma’am, I am not going to endanger this ship if that turian is still breathing. Commander Shepard-” _

_ “Commander Shepard made peace with them. Laira was with her. The Reapers are not currently hostile, now get us through that Relay or I’ll throw you out the airlock and do it myself.” ordered Williams.  _

_ A roar filled Javik's head. She died making peace with the Reapers? He cursed her name and spat onto the floor of the Normandy. How could - if she wasn’t - _

_ “Give me that.” He heard Chakwas snap. “Is there any - wait. Stop….That’s neuro activity, it's not much but it's there. She’s still with us! Neuro stimulators now!” _

_ Javik turned and began walking towards the sick bay.  _

_ * * _

_ The doors slid open and Javik surveyed the terrain. Medics were rushing around the sick bay. Dr. Chakwas was elbow deep in Garrus’ abdomen. The turian was unmoving, hooked up to several machines. Good. He would not have to kill the turian to reach Shepard. He had been preparing for that eventuality but had not necessarily been looking forward to it.  _

_ Shepard lay on an exam table, also hooked up to many instruments. There were no medics around her currently. More good fortune. Javik sent a prayer to his lost people and began to cross the room. A blue figure stepped in front of him. _

_ “Javik,” Liara said, reaching to place a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s ok, there’s brain activity. She, she might still be with us.” Her voice was edged with fear and tentative hope. _

_ “I am aware.” He said calmly. “Step aside.” _

_ The asari frowned. “I know it's alarming.” She said gently. “But we really should give Chakwas’ team time to work.” _

_ Javik’s heart was pounding. His frustration mounted. “This will not take long. Out of my way.” He repeated. _

_ “What are you-” Liara asked, but the fury inside him was becoming untenable. His objective lay right in front of him. He wanted it done. Over. His whole life, the millennia he had been in stasis, these weeks of agony. He wanted it finished. But not until the traitor paid. He pushed Liara aside and approached the table where Shepard lay.  _ _ He pulled an ancient blade from where it was connected to his armor. _

_ “NO.” Someone roared, and his blade stopped millimeters above Shepard’s unmoving body. His whole form was wreathed in Liara’s biotics, the brightest glow around the blade and his arm.  _

_ “Do not interfere, asari.” He snarled, pressing with his biotics and brute strength against her hold. _

_ “No. I don’t know what the hell you think you are doing but it is not happening.” She hissed. Rage filled her eyes, far more than when they had argued about her people's origins. He felt his arm pushing back towards him. There were now a few more inches between Shepard and the blade. Chakwas continued to work despite the standoff in her medbay. Javik could see the humans' eyes darting from where she worked on Garrus to him. He could smell the edge of suppressed panic on her. _

_ “If you had any sense in your under-evolved brain you would get out of my way.” He howled. A medic began to move towards him, but the prothean blasted the human back effortlessly.  _

_ “Get away from Shepard.” Liara snapped. _

_ “No.”  _

_ “Get away from her now or I will leave a crater where you stand.” She snarled. _

_ “You would not risk the others in this room.” He sneered. _

_ “Try me.” Liara said, eyes dark. “Why the hell are you attacking the Commander?” _

_ “I am killing a traitor.” _

_ “She’s not a traitor!”  _

_ Javik threw all his energy at the blade again: it began to lower a fraction. “Do you really believe there can be peace with the Reapers?” he growled, continuing to press against her powers. “Are you really so naive? Or are you indoctrinated like so many of your people were!” _

_ “Shepard found another way to-”  _

_ “There is no other way! The Reapers must be destroyed.” He shouted. “They wiped my people from the galaxy and Shepard is going to allow them to do the same to this cycle. So today she dies by the hand of the last prothean.” He hurled everything he had into the blade. It began to sink but before it could reach Shepard’s flesh, a blast of biotics hit the table where she lay, sending it and the Commander tumbling to the far side of the medbay.  _

_ Javik was about to leap after her when he heard Liara shriek, “You are not the last!” He hesitated for a millisecond, but it was enough for the asari to regain her hold on him.  _

_ “Someone get Shepard’s vitals, now.” Barked Chakwas, still trying to prevent the thankfully oblivious Turian from dying. _

_ “The harvested races are still in the Reapers.” Liara said, breathing hard. “Their consciousnesses could still exist inside them.“ Javik felt like the world had frozen. Her first words echoed in his head,  _ **_you are not the last_ ** _. Her eyes were bright, her biotics still locking his body in place. “She almost died trying to save them. She risked everything to stop the Reapers without destroying them because there is a chance all those harvested are still there.” _

_ “We have vitals, but they are crashing fast.” Called one of Chakwas’ assistants. Something connected to Garrus began to beep alarmingly. “Chakwas can you-” _

_ “No.” Chakwas spat, cursing. “Get her into stasis now. She glared at Javik and Liara from across the mountain of decimated armor on the table before her. “And if you two have had enough and are done doing your best to kill my patients, take your problems and get the hell out of my medbay!” _

_ Liara nodded. She had not yet released her hold on Javik. She walked towards where he was frozen in his crouch and then released her biotics, offering a hand to him. Javik stared at it for a moment and then took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet. Her gaze was still wary and she stepped aside, gesturing for him to go ahead of he _ _ r. Shoulders heavy, Javik walked past the asari, leaving behind the medbay and the possible savior of the prothean race. _

  
  


The sound of sand crunching under Liara’s boots as she returned to the tent brought Javik back to the present. She crossed to a tablet on one of the tables they had erected and began typing furiously into the keypad as he waited patiently. This had become their rhythm each time she communicated with the Ascendant. The multi-minded creature shared a tumble of images and sensations that made the studious asari concerned about missing something. 

Javik had grown frustrated with what he gleaned from communicating with Echo. The way that protheans read the markers of past experiences meant he gained a history of the Reaper, but learned nothing of the Ascendant within. Areas of the exterior had yielded the last moment of an ancient crew who’s vessel had crashed and exploded against the side of the Reaper. Another stretch had born the last panicked moments of a female creature running from the rushing wall of darkness as the Reaper tore through the tall building she had been inside. He had endured these horrors for weeks, desperately hoping for a glimpse of the prothean people or even a vision of their constructions or language, any clue that might mean Liara had been correct. Anything that might mean he was not the last.

Liara briskly tapped the save key on the tablet and rubbed her head. Javik offered her a container of water. The dry climate of Rannoch agreed with him. It was similar to his home world in its arid nature, but he could see the heat and dry air taking their toll on the asari. She accepted it with a smile and drank heavily.

“What did you see?” He asked at last, striving for patience.

Liara let out a long breath through her nose. “A lot.” She said. “Echo still doesn’t communicate with me as clearly as she does with Shepard. I get images, sounds and sensations, but Shepard keeps talking about Echo’s voice as a thing of its own. Echo has to use my thoughts and memories, or Shepard’s actually, to communicate with me.” She laughed, and Javik frowned at her in confusion. Liara shook her head. “Today I… I heard how Shepard’s thoughts sound to her when she is having them. How her voice in her mind sounds. It’s like her speaking voice but a little deeper and with this ringing quality like she’s speaking in a large space. I can’t decide if it means she actually feels small or if it’s a product of that ego of hers.”

“Interesting.” Javik lied.

Liara wasn’t fooled. “Sorry,” she chuckled. “I saw more of their interplanetary travel. I still don't understand their vessels or how they constructed or piloted them given their suspected avian physiology.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t see anything prothean. From the skies above their world and their navigation systems they are either from a galaxy I’m unfamiliar with or from a cycle long before yours. Nothing was even remotely similar to the star charts you showed me.”

“It is alright. Can you date how early they may be?”

She sighed in frustration and skimmed through her notes on the tablet, shaking her head. “The Reapers' harvests make that impossible. My people have always measured things by the ages of the stars, fossil records, and ancient technologies. But now that we know so much life was repeatedly wiped out I have to throw everything I was taught out the window. Our history stretches back far longer than we know but the Reapers didn’t leave us much to find. Echo didn’t have any concept of time till Shepard awoke them with the Crucible.

“A small mercy.” Said Javik. “Though a complication to our work.”

“I am sorry.” She repeated. “I wish I could have seen something of the protheans. A view from the Echo’s airborne perspective would answer so many questions about the layout and spacing of the ruins I have come across.” She shook her head. “I know that might sound trivial to you but… I would give anything to see your world. To actually see it in its might and glory.”

“I understand.” Javik said softly. Liara frowned at him, clearly disbelieving. “I do.” he pressed. “My world was already lost when I was born.” He scrolled absentmindedly on a tablet through dozens and dozens of language samples gathered from Echo, from tongues neither he nor Liara had ever come across. “Our empire may have stretched farther than any of this cycle could comprehend, but that did not stop our destruction. It merely lengthened it. I also only have stories of the great eras of my people.” He chuckled softly.

“What?” She asked.

Javik smiled at the asari. “I have heard you say repeatedly that you wish you could go ‘back in time’ to see my world. But a trip to our world would have been like a trip to the future. Our technology may be old, but it is still far more advanced than that of your cycle.”

“Oh.” Said Liara, sounding surprised. “I… you’re right. I don’t know why I never thought of it that way. Oh, I feel foolish now.”

“Don’t. It is just perspective. Give yourself a few millennia in stasis,” he teased, “and you’ll catch up.” She rolled her eyes, then crossed her arms and gave him a long, considering look.

“What?” He asked this time. 

Her brow furrowed but her lip twitched as it often did when she was holding back a grin. “Perhaps you are the one who should start pondering trips to the past.” She said lightly.

“I do not follow your meaning.” He said.

“If visiting your world would have been like a trip to the future for me, then you’re experiencing every archaeologist's dream. You are seeing all the details of life in a less civilized world. You get to see, to understand it in a way no one in a world as developed as the protheans ever truly could.” She tilted her head to the side, considering him. “I think it offers you an unparalleled opportunity for prothean vengeance.”

“And what would that be?” he asked.

“You may be able to find your people and give them a second chance, and you can study us, learn about how the great civilizations evolve and help ensure the same mistakes aren’t made again. You could become your own legend. Afterall, what more powerful tactic of war could there be then preventing it from even happening?”

Javik laughed. “Your asari imaginations are remarkable. No wonder you thought all of us were gods,” he chuckled. “‘Become my own legend’ - yes, I will work on that.” He nudged her good naturedly away from the tablet she had recorded her visions from Echo on. “Come on,” he said. “Let us run another language comparison.”  Liara snorted softly and tapped in the commands for the program. While waiting for the results, he saw her pick up a page where he had sketched various prominent prothean skylines, hoping she would be able to recognize one in the hurricane of Echo’s thoughts. She gazed hungrily at the sketches, brow slightly furrowed, eyes darting from one to another. He could see her making comparisons, connections, and a list of questions that could stretch from here back to Legion. He felt his lip twitch.

“Uh ho.” He heard a voice say. “Am I early?” He watched Liara look up upon hearing the voice, her eyes bright. Shepard stood against the final rays of the afternoon sun, leaning against one of the tent poles. “You intended to kick my ass again at sunset?” She asked, grinning at Javik.

“We were just wrapping up, Shepard.” Liara said. Javik couldn’t believe it was already so late or that he had lost track of time in this way. Liara tapped a few commands into the tablet. “I can set the program to run on the Normandy and send you the results later.” She offered.

“No.” Said Javik. “It has nearly run its course. I will finish it off, look it over and send you the report. Shepard can use the time to warm up. Maybe then she will be able to duck in time.” The Commander rolled her eyes at that. Liara nodded, picked up her personal tablet and walked towards the edge of the tent. She glanced back over her shoulder with a smile and called to him. “Don’t send her back up tonight with so many bruises this time. Chakwas is going to run out of medigel at the rate you two are going.”

“Yeah, Javik. Listen to Liara.” Shepard echoed.

“How many bruises she gets,” Javik said with a glower, “is entirely up to her.”

Both of them laughed and Liara started back towards Legion.

“Oh,” Shepard said from the edge of the tent. “Take your time, Javik, I’m going to walk with Liara a ways. There was something I needed to ask her about.” And before he could reply the Commander was trotting down the bluff after the blue figure.

Javik sighed. These younger races were very flighty and impulsive. The Krogans at least had the right ideas about efficiency and rule of law, but even they seemed to be spoiling to headbutt anything that came in sight. He bent over the terminal running the language program and adjusted the settings to search for an even older dialect of Prothean. It was the oldest one he could remember, but he knew there were even more ancient forms of the language. He hadn’t paid them much attention, however. Anything that archaic seemed pointless when his species’ focus had been on desperately trying to preserve their future. Who cared if they forgot an ancient style of writing that wasn’t used anymore if there were no more of his people to care that something had been forgotten? This work of trying to find a trace of the protheans; he was thankful for it. The tiny, painful spark of hope he desperately kept alive was a great improvement to the void he had felt within him since awakening and learning his people were gone and that the Reapers had returned. He had something to do. He continued to have a purpose. But it made him feel unworthy. All this searching for their past, it only reinforced what he had known since he had awoken and the Normandy’s crew began asking about the designs for the Crucible: he was not the one who should have survived. He was an avatar of the prothean military. An aspect of their culture that had failed them. Their sciences had endured in relics and artifacts, continuing to shape the races that emerged from the carnage of the harvest that ended his empire. Even the works of artists had managed to find their way to this cycle. And now… even an avatar of their historical societies or a lowly student would be better suited to find traces of the protheans than he.

The terminal beeped and he pulled up the results. Nothing. No traces. No similarities. Another useless dead end. His heart raced. The frustration burst from him and he snarled. Bringing his fist down on the table, a blast of his biotics flashed through the air, sending a tablet and nearly all the papers flying across the tent. He stared at the cracks in the tables’ surface, breathing heavily.

“Javik?” Came a gentle voice from behind him. He spun, and cursed silently, seeing Shepard standing tentatively at the edge of the tent, gazing at him warily.

“Commanda’, I -” He began. But she cut him off.

“You don’t need to say anything.” She said with a shrug. She bent and began collecting papers. He watched her for a moment, breathing heavily, before joining her.

“How are you so good at drawing?” She asked nonchalantly, pausing to stare at one of his sketches as she helped him clean up the mess. “Your people don’t strike me as the arts and crafts type. Particularly in the military.”

“It was deemed a necessary skill for all. That way, regardless of the technologies at hand, it was possible to share detailed intelligence on other life forms, terrain, troop positioning, and so forth. That way it did not matter if you had a crashed ship or lost all technology to an electrical or mass effect pulse. If you still had your hand and a bit of dirt, or enemy’s blood, you had everything you needed.”

“Well, I don’t know if I would encourage blood as your medium, but if you wanted to keep it up in a more recreational sense I’m sure people would be interested in -” She stopped, staring at a page of sketches. Javik grabbed the last of the papers near him and crossed to see what had held her attention. Maybe she had recognized a prothean landmark in the visions Echo had shared with her? But the page she was staring at did not hold drawings of his lost world. It was covered with half finished sketches and beginnings of a portrait. A tapered crest rose from a strong forehead. Soft lips lifted up at one corner in a slight smile, and deep thoughtful eyes stared out at him from an elegant face with lightly speckled cheeks. Javik snatched the sketch of Liara from Shepard’s hands and swiftly crumpled it. He gave her a deadly stare. She said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow.

“Come on.” he growled. “It’s getting late.” He began walking towards the beach, his face hot, calling back over his shoulder, “And you get sloppy when you are tired.”

* * *

Another shot hit the center of the practice dummy but it did nothing to improve Garrus’ mood. He tapped a few commands into the control panel and it moved another hundred paces back to the end of the track on the Normandy’s shooting range. He stood at ease and then snapped his rifle up to his mandibles as quick as he could and released another shot. His visor zoomed in so that he could see the dummy clearly at the increased distance. Yep. Another perfect shot. Damn. Human ships were too short. No self-respecting turian vessel would have this truncated of a shooting range. What was the point? He had been drilling snap shots for half an hour now and had perfected them at the maximum distance. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

He had returned to the Normandy about an hour after eating dinner while watching the sunset. Shepard had left he, Tali and Admiral Ra’an just before the meal to go work with Javik, saying it would be easier if she had less in her stomach to risk vomiting up. He was worried about how taxing Javik's training was if it was making her vomit. Not that he had any idea what they were doing. She hadn't shared the details with him. She hadn’t shared anything with him. Which was fine - he was giving her space.

After dinner he had bought as many non-perishable dextros supplies as he could carry and taken them to Gardner back on the Normandy. He’d tried to pass them off as long-term options for  _ any _ dextro species that happened to spend an extended time on the Normandy; perhaps if the Commander and any visiting Admirals held a diplomatic meeting with a dextro-species guest down the road. He had a feeling, however, that Gardner knew that it was really for his extended time on the Normandy. Although, with how little he and Shepard had talked, he desperately hoped he wasn’t kidding himself and that all the great food he had found, including the large block of chocolate, wouldn’t end up being eaten by someone else.

Those thoughts and Shepard’s continued absence aboard the ship had continued to bother him, so he’d gone to the battery and re-recalibrated the guns. He had been about to try a fourth calibration setting when EDI had announced to him over the intercoms that his efforts were actually becoming less efficient and that he was making mistakes in his calculations. So after a few curses and a reset that left the guns with the settings from when he had walked into the room he had gone to the shooting range to sulk- to do something productive. Not that the heavily blasted blue practice dummy seemed like the result of something particularly useful.

He heard the doors behind him open and his heart leapt. He turned and felt disappointed when he saw Liara leaning into the room, looking equally disappointed at seeing him.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was-”

“Looking for Shepard.” Garrus supplied.

“Uh, yes.” She said.

“Not here.” He said, fiddling pointlessly with the settings of his rifle, rather than looking at her. “She’s on Rannoch working with Javik.” 

“She’s not, though.” Said Liara. Garrus’ head snapped up at that. “Javik just sent me some questions about our work today. She must have finished with him and returned to the ship.”

“She must still be doing something on Rannoch.” He said.  _ Which was fine, _ he thought,  _ she’s a big Reaper killing, Council saving human that can control a ship with her mind. She can take care of herself. I don’t care that she’s there alone. _ He lied to himself.

“I think she’s back here.” Liara said.

“I’d know if she was back.” He said without thinking. It felt true to say that for some reason but Liara gave him an odd look. “Anyway, I’d check her cabin later, not here.” He said, turning back to his gun. 

“I just thought she would be here with you after-” Liara stopped suddenly.

Garrus simply stared at her. 

“Well,” she said tensely. After a moment she took a few steps into the room and added. “After being at the birth today.”

Garrus' jaw tightened. “Nope.” he said simply.

That had been… unexpected. Garrus had never really seen a child born before. He had watched a vid that showed some aspects of a turian birth when he was very young and doing cultural learning about turian reproduction just before he reached the age where breeding hormones became part of his life. He had never  seen anything else, however, and this had been different from anything he remembered - even in spite of the many biological similarities that quarians and turian shared as dextro species. There had been no fetal sheath for the doctor to deal with: pregnant quarians definitely did a lot more “showing” than turians, which made sense, as the infant had been surprisingly large at the time of birth. 

It would have been a strange thing to watch no matter what. It was especially strange seeing as neither he nor Shepard had been prepared to watch someone give birth. From Tali and Ra’an’s comments later at dinner he suspected that Tali and Ra’an were not aware that Shepard had been pregnant while on the Crucible. They had wanted to honor Shepard by having her present when the first quarian child was born on Rannoch in over a thousand years. The child’s mothers had quietly extended the invitation via the Admiral as a way to thank Shepard and her team for what they had done and bring strength to the child's birth by having a great warrior present. The latter idea had seemed surprisingly turian for the usually more scientifically-minded quarians.

He wasn’t sure how Shepard had felt about it. He had smelled panic and frustration on her just before the birth. But once it began and during the blessings after she had schooled her face remarkably and smiled at the new parents, offering them her congratulations and wishing them and the child well. She had found a way to extricate from them all rather quickly, however, showing her diplomatic chops by suggesting that a few of the child's cries were rightly pointing out that Com’ari was to be the center of attention and authority at this event and that Shepard should make her goodbyes. Shepard had said she would be delighted to hear how the child grew and hear all about her accomplishments over the years, which had clearly thrilled the parents.

Maybe all the time Shepard had spent getting into hot water had also given her the ability to excel at getting out of it. Maybe that was why she had escaped death twice. 

“Was she ok after seeing that today?” Liara asked.

Garrus sighed. “Liara, I get that everyone is worried about her but she’s handling things. And frankly,” He said, “I wouldn't know.” Shepard hadn’t spoken to him afterwards. He’d tried to catch her eye, to ask silently, but she had eluded this as well.

“You mean you didn’t talk to her about it? You didn’t check to see how she was coping?”

“She didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it.” Garrus said. She hadn’t ever seemed like she wanted to talk about it. Not since that day in the Salarian hospital.

“Did you ask?” Liara demanded.

“No.” Garrus growled. “I don’t think she was ready.”

“Well how do you know?”

“I don’t.” He snapped. “But she’s barely talked to me about  _ anything _ in two days because I pushed her to talk about something when she didn’t want to. So now that she just watched someone have a baby when she lost one you can be sure as hell that I’m not going to listen to you and push her to talk about anything _ , anything  _ until she seems ready. Much less this or anything involving her feelings, which are just her favorite subject.” Liara glared at him. “So thanks for all your ancient wisdom but you can butt the hell out because I’m going to be very careful in how I handle this.”

“Oh, so now you are going to be careful.” Liara hissed.

Garrus stilled. “And what the hell does that mean?”

Liara snorted “Nothing.” she spat.

She began to walk to the door but Garrus crossed to her and blocked her way. “What does that mean?” He repeated, glaring down at her.

“Nothing.” She said. “Step aside.”

He didn’t move. “Enough of your manipulative asari bullshit. If you have something to say, spit it out.” He growled.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to talk about it. Now move or I’ll move you.” she said, a little blue biotic light sparking around her hand. She could. He might be the better shot, but he couldn’t do anything against biotics. Not that he would actually ever shoot Liara.

“I thought resorting to fighting was my move.” He drawled. “I thought the superior asari would have better ways of resolving issues.”

“Sometimes you need primitive solutions to primitive problems.” She hissed.

Garrus laughed, “You’ve been spending too much time with Javik. Falling for the fossil?” Seems like he’d be your type. Ancient and extinct.”

Liara laughed now. “Paleontologists study fossils.” she sneered. “Archeologists study ancient cultures, and I am an archeologist, not that I would expect a brute like you to know the difference.”

“Maybe Javik has disdain for species like me but Shepard seems to like primitive brutes just fine.”

“Really?” Liara asked. “Because maybe if you actually were careful you wouldn't be losing her now and she wouldn’t have lost-”

“Just, what the hell are you suggesting?” Garrus roared.

“I’m suggesting that she wouldn’t be suffering from this kind of thing if it had been me. I wouldn’t have been so careless!”

“Careless?” Garrus demanded.

“You didn’t take any precautions, you just let your hormones get the best of you and-”

“We couldn't have known!” Garrus shouted.

“We would have known.” she spat back. “I would have controlled when it happened, if it happened. She never would’ve had all that thrown on her plate at once.”

Garrus could feel his heart pounding with rage. He wanted to pull a trigger. Badly.

“You’re the one who told us that’s probably the only reason she survived.” He said through gritted teeth. “So maybe my great sin, my  _ carelessness, _ is the only reason we still have her.”

That shut her up for a moment, although the asari was still clearly fuming silently. He could feel everything in the air - the room - it was like things were electrically charged; like something might move at any moment. Classic telltale of an angry biotic.

She was breathing fast. “You were so willing to let her run in and save the day - to be the one to do everything.”

All the heat went out of his anger. 

Ready? Willing? 

“I have never hated anything more in my life.” He said quietly. He could still feel the rage and pain and fear from being on the Crucible. He didn't think it was ever going to leave him.

“You’re entire life?” Liara taunted. “Oh, your entire short life - you stupid, imature-”

“Oh, so you would have stopped her? You were there - why didn’t you try and-”

“I DID TRY.” the asari yelled, and this time her biotics flared to life, sending a row of practice targets tumbling to the floor. “Why did you think I told her about the baby there - then, in the middle of all that destruction, when things were so dire?” She glared at him “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I would just drop that on her out of nowhere?” she scoffed in disgust of the answer plain on his face. “No. You narrow-minded reptile. I thought… when she wouldn’t choose herself, when she hadn’t chosen herself when the Collectors attacked the Normandy; the first time she-” Liara struggled to continue, tears of pain and rage glinting at the edge of those blue eyes, “- when she chose  _ you.”  _ she spat the word as if it was something filthy. “I thought - if she thought she would lose something so precious to you, then maybe, just maybe I could stop her from... that maybe there would be a different way.” The asari was crying in earnest now “That I wouldn’t…”

His anger vanished as he beheld her pain. It was clear he and Shepard weren’t the only ones carrying trauma from that day. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around the now shaking asari. He knew he wasn’t the person or comfort she wanted but he couldn’t do anything else. 

“I thought it would stop her.” Liara breathed into his armor.

“I know.” He said softly. “But nothing does.”

* * *

Shepard rolled over and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Spitting blood into the dark sands. She wiped her mouth as she got to her feet and faced Javik again. He grinned. “Good”, he said. “You are getting quicker at confronting your fears.” 

“I think my face is spending a little too much time confronting your right hook, though.” She said, rubbing her cheek. That one was going to leave a mark.

“That is immaterial for now.” Said Javik. “Your body does not usually have trouble protecting you, and this will be much easier when your mind does not become paralized. A predator wins when the prey’s fear reaches the point that they can no longer listen to their natural wisdom. This is what we must work on.”

“I would have thought protheans weren’t primitive enough to think of themselves as prey.” Shepard said. 

Javik chuckled. “My people were great, and may have been the dominant civilization, but we were by no means the biggest and scariest creatures in our cycle. We knew our place and knew when to run. That is how we lived long enough to evolve to become all we were.” He cocked his head at Shepard and she tensed. “Just as you, my human friend, really need to learn when to block.” With the last word he exploded into motion and landed a touch on Shepard’s ribs before she could do more than begin to step back.

* * *

There was sand beneath her feet and Rannoch’s bright sun heated the air around her. Casting long shadows from the fallen behemoth before her. She was on Rannoch’s northern hemisphere where she had downed her third Reaper. Her spine tingled as she remembered the blasts that had fired from the eye-like cannon at its heart. “It is good to see you, Shepard.” said a quick, slightly high-pitched voice behind her.

“Mordin.” She said, her voice hitching as she turned and saw her fallen salarian friend standing behind her. Mordin smiled, but gazed around him rather than at her: as usual, fascinated by new information like a new puzzle. “Interesting,” he said. “Never been to quarian home planet. Thought it was inefficient use of time as native lifeforms could no longer habitat. Also believed it to be heavily controlled by geth. Fascinating that geth created so few structures on the surface, much more focused on base in orbit. Perhaps more efficient for accessing other planets and areas in space? Food and nutrients unnecessary for synthetic life. Makes most aspects of terrestrial life unnecessary and inefficient. Easier to build large complex structures without gravity. Vacuum of space eliminates need for cooling functions in computers. Should have asked Legion.”

Shepard smiled. “I miss you.” she said softly.

Mordin glanced at Shepard. “I share similar sentiments. Ironic that quarians lost homeworld to race that did not need or use it. Glad you were able to balance things again, Shepard. Impressive destruction of this Reaper as well. However, would have made fascinating study of organic and synthetic integration if kept alive.”

“Yeah,” Shepard shook her head. “I think that would have been a little difficult.” She added sadly, “And you were already gone.”

“True. Got excited. Forgot about that. Intriguing that it is possible.” Mordin said. He stared at her. “You are different, Shepard.”

Shepard extended a hand and gazed at the strands that ran across it. “Yeah… just a little.” she said quietly.

“I am not merely referring to your bio-synthetic transformation or your significant additional scarring.” He said. “Although, does look intriguing. Curious if it consists of primarily synthetic or organic materials. Visually, strands resemble neural networks.”

“Do you know what they are?” The moment she asked the question she felt stupid. But… the strands made her feel alien and anyone who had examined her had been at a loss to help her understand what they were. In all the galaxy, Mordin would have been who she would have turned to. Mordin surely would have been the person crazy and brilliant enough to have an idea what they were.

“No, Shepard… sorry.” he said softly. “And, unfortunately, I do not believe our interfacing here will have necessary supplies for testing and diagnostic studies.” Shepard tried to remain focused on seeing him again, even in this strange way, rather than the rush of disappointment. “In any case,” Mordin continued. “Physical transformation not what I was referring to.” He frowned at her. “Evidence suggests you are lost, Shepard.” His voice tinged with a harshness she had never heard from him.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Always respected you, Shepard.” He said. “Good friend, respect scientific approach. Understand making difficult decisions with information you have currently available. Unafraid to take responsibility rather than be paralized by indecision. Your decision perplexes and frustrates me for these reasons.”

“What decision?” Shepard asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Difficult choices were given to you. Understand you were coping with physical trauma at the time as well. However, success rates and implications of available options for utilizing the Crucible were made very clear.” He took a deep breath, his frown deepening. “I fail to understand your choice because of this.”

Shepard paused. She stared at him, weighing her next words. “I wasn’t going to force a change on people.” She said softly. “I thought after everything that happened with the genophage you would understand that.”

Mordin snorted and crossed his arms. “You reference genophage. Low blow, Shepard.”

“No,” She said, genuinely distressed, “I meant you undid that change.”

“But stood by decision at the time based on available data.” He countered. “In any case, your decision different than genophage. Crucible made it clear that peace was possible through Synthesis. That Synthesis was eventuality and necessary for actual maintenance of peace. Would ensure certain,” he took a deep breath, “sacrifices were not wasted. Yet you chose to abandon pathway.”

“I found another way.”

“For now. What about long term?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. We just have to try our best.”

“Our best.” Mordin said, “Many gave ‘their best’ already. Frustrated, Shepard. You have chosen uncertainty. Thought you would have been able to make hard choice. Ensure sacrifice we… sacrifice  _ I _ made - not in vain.” He blinked at her. “Disappointed, Shepard.”

Shepard’s chest was tight.

“Shepard Commander.” she heard someone else say. She turned slightly to the left and saw that, somehow, Legion had appeared as well. 

“Legion.” she whispered. Her eyes were stinging.

“My people.” He said, looking around him as if he could see the other geth now living on Rannoch with the quarians. Perhaps through their network he could somehow. “I fear for the geth, Shepard Commander.”

“It’s ok.” she said. “What you did worked, they have individuality now. And there is peace between them and the quarians.

“For now.” Said Legion. “Synthetics and organics are still significantly different. Population of those that are truly both… is limited to you. Admiral Xen still views us as subservient entities. This mindset cannot be limited to only her.”

“I’m watching her.” Shepard said darkly. Wind began to blow across Rannoch’s plains, blowing clouds of sand and dust. “I am not going to let her do anything to the geth.”

“Will you be remaining on Rannoch indefinitely?” Legion asked. Mordin coughed pointedly. Looking from Legion to her. Shepard shifted uncomfortably. “What will happen when your lifecycle is ended? Humans have insignificant life spans comparative to geth consciousness. Organic races prove to be forgetful. Who will guard my people when you are dead, Shepard Commander?”

“I-” Shepard began. But Mordin interrupted her.

“What is to stop conflict between synthetics and organics? Why did you throw away possibility of lasting peace?”

“I couldn’t live with doing that to everyone!” she snapped. She squinted into the wind and sand, eyes watering.

Mordin looked hurt. “Some of us, Shepard, didn’t have the option to  _ live  _ with our choices.” he said softly. 

The wind was beginning to howl now. The dust was everywhere, in her lungs and eyes. Shepard was breathing hard. “I didn’t know I would survive making the link with EDI.” She gasped.

“But you wanted to.” Said Legion. “It was one of your desires when you were searching for alternatives. While you took time to search for alternatives. Three hundred and seventy nine geth lost functionality in fighting the Reapers while you tried to find another path. Their individual consciousness was not retained. That data was lost.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said. “But of course I wanted to live. We all wanted to live.”

“But some,” Mordin said, “Were willing to quickly make hard choices to ensure best case survival for others. You were not.”

She couldn’t tell if her heart was pounding from her labored breaths or the mounting panic building in her chest. Her head was spinning. She tried desperately to get air into her lungs but she couldn’t. It was like she was underwater. Like sand had filled the stupid useless weak lungs in her body. The body that didn’t deserve to survive. 

“You have fought with those closest to you.” Mordin hissed.

“You do not want to take my people's case to the Council.” said Legion.

“No,” Shepard gasped, “I want to, I just, I’m just tired.” She was coughing now, her head spinning.

“Others should be so lucky, to be alive, to be tired.” Mordin said. Mordin’s eyes shone. “Thought you would have understood, Shepard. Thought you would have seen... it had to be you. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

* * *

Shepard’s biotics were whipping around her, creating a maelstrom of glowing sand within the circle of torches Javik had erected. Javik shielded his face with a hand, squinting through the billowing sands around the young woman before him. “Shepard!” he called, but the howling winds created by her biotics drowned out his voice. She lay in the heart of the whipping winds, body thrashing, the strands blazing with that strange green light. No vision had held her this long. It usually took her a few seconds, maybe a minute to fight her way past the visions he made her confront. “Fight it, Shepard.” he yelled. But the prothean was beginning to worry that his words were not reaching her.

He sent out a blast of his own biotics, creating a wall of solid air cutting through the raging winds, parting the crashing waves of sand, and rushed towards Shepard. He felt her biotics slam into his, and to his shock, his shield nearly buckled under the onslaught. It was wrong.

Shepard had impressive biotics for a human. He had fought beside her, seen her use them to turn the tide of a battle, but they were nothing like the powers that Samara or the strange human Jack possessed. But that blow… a strike of that power. That should have been beyond her capabilities. He could feel her power crackling along his own; pressing, searching for weakness, pushing for a breach. He shoved her biotics back as he neared her form, shifting and contracting them to form a small bubble around the two of them. A heartbeat later he felt Shepard’s power tearing into his shields once again. “I am trying to help you, idiot.” He hissed, kneeling before her. 

She was flailing on the sand, head arched back, mouth gaping open, not breathing. Javik struck her abdomen quickly just below where an asari solar-plexus would be. Had her airway somehow become blocked? His efforts seemed to have done nothing. He growled in frustration, placed his hands on her chest and began pressing as he had seen human soldiers and medics do at the battle for Earth. “Shepard!” he yelled as he pressed. “You cannot surrender to what you are seeing. You cannot let it paralyze you. You must fight. You must return, Commanda’!” 

It wasn’t working. He was unsure how long human brain function could be sustained without oxygen. They were not an aquatic species and did not seem to have any specialty breathing physiology, so he feared they did not last long. 

A horn-like noise cut through the raging winds. Javik looked up, and saw a dark form against the starry sky. The meager light of the torches glinted off an enormous column of black that was sweeping forwards from the waters and beginning to crash through the sands of the beach. Echo had landed before them for some reason. He stared in confusion up at the Ascendant. Another horn-like cry rent the air, almost like a summons. Without thinking, Javik swept Shepard into his arms and began sprinting for Echo’s mammoth form. He splashed into the shallows of the quiet bay waters as he reached the base of Echo’s towering form. He crouched and lowered Shepard so that she was sitting in the ebbing and flowing shallows, her back pressed to the base of the Ascendent. In the instant her body made contact with Echo there was a flash of green light and the spiraling pattern of light began to creep up the Ascendant’s form. It grew and spread a few meters, then the intensity of the blaze grew, and with a flash the light began to disappear, shrinking back towards Shepard until it vanished within her. With a gasp of breath, she opened her eyes. 

Shepard coughed between gasps of air and then tumbled to her hands and knees, retching into the shallows. When she’d finished, Javik gently leaned her back against Echo. She was still glowing slightly. The windstorm of her biotics had vanished the moment she could breathe again. Javik could hear waves crashing on the far side of Echo’s bulk, but the shallow waters around him and Shepard were quiet. The occasional small rippling wave found its way around the side of the massive Ascendant, making the reflected light from Shepard’s strands dance.

Shepard looked at Javik. “Sorry.” she croaked.

Javik snorted. “You got some sand in my eyes.” He said with a shrug. “I am not the one who stopped breathing.” He allowed himself to drop into a sitting position with a splash that made Shepard squawk and begin to cough again. He, too, leaned back against Echo. The Ascendant let out a low rumble and he placed a hand against it in acknowledgement. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sigh of the water and the scratch of Shepard’s breath.

“You had been doing well.” Javik said. “And you said you thought you fought out of the dream last night.” He shifted his head, the two eyes on his left searching her expression. “What could you not face this time?”

Shepard did not answer.

“What did you see, Commanda’?” he asked.

“My friends.” She whispered, unable to look at him. “The friends I failed.” She took a deep breath. “How am I supposed to fight them,  _ master prothean _ ?” She asked, eyebrows raising slightly.

Javik gazed up at the sky. Rannoch’s atmosphere was still untouched and Legion emitted so little light that the heavens had no competition, especially now that Shepard’s blazing light had dimmed to a soft glow. He did not remember skies like this one in his time. The only memories of his home world were full of fire, death and the pressing Reapers. Each outpost he and his soldiers had been assigned to had been heavily developed generations before he was born. Narat, Rannoch’s larger moon, was dark tonight and its smaller sister Tis’kia had not yet risen. The number and brilliance of stars blazing without equal in the night was almost overwhelming. He couldn’t help but wonder - would protheans have become the conquerors they had been if they could still behold the sky this way, even when they were capable of such marvels as space flight?

The skies he had seen had been grainy and dark, only a few stars peaking through; only those bright enough to compete with the brilliance of the cities the protheans had built. When he was young it was easy to look up at the handful of stars and believe that they could all be his. That they should be part of the empire he served. That their world should encompass all they could see. But now, gazing at the endless ranks of systems before him, he felt that conquering pride quake, humbled by the massive vault of the heavens. He was the Avatar of Vengeance, but he wondered: what else might he have been if he had grown up under these stars? What might his people have become if he had not failed them?

“I cannot teach you how to fight those you have lost, those who’s oaths you have broken.” He said, and added softly. “I have not learned myself.”

“You have broken no oath.” Shepard said gently. “The Reapers, the Conduit… they’re gone.” The last words were spoken with such force that Javik knew even she did not really believe them. “You have your vengeance.”

“Shepard,” Javik began, each word full of discomfort. “What you saw earlier… I...” his voice broke, and he hated himself for it. “I am frustrated and… afraid.” He took a deep breath. “I have linked to each Ascendant on Rannoch I have been able to find. Sentinel has been able to connect to some Ascendent on other planets as well, but… I… I cannot find my people.” He could not bring himself to look at her as he asked. “Can you see them? Can you feel them?”

Shepard was quiet for a moment and then said. “I haven’t asked Echo about them.” 

“But when you go… wherever you go. Are they there?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really know what happens. There’s just light, sound, and wind or there’s whatever nightmare I’m in..” She leaned her head back, staring up at Echo. “This time there wasn’t anything but wind and… my friends, and then I heard Echo cry and felt… talons on my brain.” He saw her rubbing at the still-glowing strands on the back of one hand, as if it was a bit of dirt or a temporary mark she could brush away. “I sound crazy.” she whispered, then shook her head. “But there are no other consciousnesses… just monsters and me.”

“Liara told me about the Collectors.” Javik said. “She showed me what they looked like. We faced those corrupted versions of our people in my time. I was glad that you destroyed the last of them. Gave my people peace. I slaughtered hundreds personally. But now... now I would kill to find one alive. To see if I could communicate with it. To see if somehow an ember of who my people were remained.”

“You should go to whatever is left of Cronos station and the Collector base. The Ascendent seem to be more tech than organic. Maybe some of what was left after the wave of radiation has a trace of them now that their consciousnesses are free. Maybe something survived.”

Javik hadn’t considered this option. Reapers treated organics as pawns and materials indiscriminately. The Echo, from what they could tell, looked nothing like the Reaper shell in which their consciousness resided, yet they were there. Could the last voices of his people be out there somewhere in an abandoned Cerberus lab or locker of reclaimed debris? He hated to admit it but the idea of seeing a ship that had been controlled by the twisted monstrosities that were the Collectors filled him with some trepidation.

He must have been showing some of his thoughts because he heard Shepard breathe. “I’ll go with you.” Her green eyes, still slightly luminous from before, met his own. Her face was painted with bruises, fresh and fading - mostly from him. The slowly healing scratches on her face were dark against the silver of her older scars. She was a mess, but her gaze was calm. The expression of someone who had seen many horrors and would calmly walk into them again to make sure others did not face them alone. 

His cycle would have thought her inept. She would never have attained her current rank in his military. But he had seen the loyalty and respect her spirit had earned her. He’d felt it firsthand. After everything she’d done, he hadn’t hesitated at her order to watch Admiral Xen. Following her felt right in his core in a way he could not remember from his cycle. Had they failed because they lacked leaders like this frail human? “We can take the Normandy and search for them.” She added.

“You must fight for the geth and Ascendant.” He replied. “Finding my people will not matter if they have no place in this world.” 

She frowned slightly. “Then I’ll come join you once I make the Council listen.” She said. “If they’re out there, we’ll find them.” Something had changed in her. The doubt was gone. There was an intoxicating spark in her eyes. She looked out at the stars, squinting slightly, as if by doing so she could make out remnants of prothean life hiding behind their light. She spoke with such certainty that he couldn’t help but believe her. “We’ll find them and we’ll bring them home.”

* * *

Garrus stood with his eyes closed listening to the thrum of the engines. He told himself he had come here wondering if he would find Shepard curled up asleep in the corner, but it was a lie. He’d come here for himself. He was exhausted and the sound was growing on him. Then there was the fact that the room… well, it smelled like her now. There was a little sting of scared Shepard in the air, but it was mostly just her. With his eyes closed he could pretend she was here.

“You look like shit.” someone said softly.

Garrus eyes flashed open. Her full lips twitched. Green eyes shining. She leaned against the door to the engine room, hands behind her back, watching him. “Worn out from eating all the food on Rannoch?” She teased gently. Her posture was relaxed but he could hear her elevated heartbeat. “If we don’t get to Palaven soon, the quarians aren’t going to have enough left for winter.” 

She’d said  _ we. _

Garrus crossed his arms and leaned against the control panel behind him. “Does that mean you and Javik are done playing in the sand?” He drawled. 

“For now.” She said, adding “I built the bigger sand-citadel.” But there was a shadow behind the forced light in her eyes. “I have something for you,” she said hesitantly. “As… as an apology.” 

“You don’t need to-” he began, but she cut him off.

“No, I do. You… you were trying to help. I just. I got scared.” She said quietly. “Anyway, I got you this.” She pulled a bottle of a clear liquid from behind her back and pressed it into his hands. “Now hurry up and open it so we can start drinking.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and unscrewed the top. The strong bite of spirits hit his nose. “Where the hell did you get this? The quarians won’t have the grain to make something like this for weeks, much less the time to ferment it.” He said.

Shepard grinned, shrugging. “I know it's not  _ Archangel Vineyards _ ,” she said. “But I did convince Admiral Ra’an to show me the contraband liquor she made when she was younger. And part with a bottle.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I know a gift should come without strings attached, but...” She stared up at him apologetically. “Admiral Ra’an said it’s going to cost you a conversation with your father about Sentinel’s seat on the council.”

Garrus sniffed the bottle again and then faked a long suffering sigh. “I suppose it’s worth it.” He said. He offered her the bottle with a grin. “You drink first, though. That way I’ll know that you really aren’t mad at me anymore and it’s not secretly poisoned.”

She scowled at him. “It’s not poisoned. But let's drink in my cabin, not here. That way we can just fall into bed instead of crawling back pretending that the commander of the Normandy isn’t completely pissed drunk.”

She had said  _ we _ again.

“Alright.” He said slowly, but still handed her the bottle. “You go and I’ll catch up. I spent three hours in the shooting range. I smell like gunpowder right now.”

“I don’t mind.” Shepard said slowly. 

“Of course you don’t.” He said, trying to ignore the way her tone had quickened his pulse. “But humans' sense of smell is so bad you could sleep in a pile of Krogan dung without noticing. Go on. I’ll  be quick.” She gave him a parting glare and began walking down the hall. He watched her hair swinging behind her and felt like he could breathe again for the first time in days.

A few minutes later the doors to Shepard’s cabin hissed open and Garrus stepped inside. Shepard was sitting on the bed, armor gone, wearing the soft pants she liked to sleep in and a black and red hooded top that was ancient, torn, burned and had a few bullet holes in it. She put down the tablet she had been reading and frowned at the box in his hands. 

“What’s that?” She asked. 

‘You’ll see.” He said softly. He crossed the room and placed the box on the counter of the bar. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed and casually nodded to the box. “Go on. Open it.” She slid off  the end of the bed and approached the mysterious box.

“It better not explode or have something I need to shoot inside it.” She said, eyeing the box distrustfully. “I’m exhausted from working with Javik.”

“I promise.” He said softly. She began opening it and he watched with bated breath. He was a little nervous. Shepard removed the lid and lifted a carefully wrapped object. She cautiously unwound the cloth around it, revealing shining green-blue glass. Her breath caught and she quickened her work, revealing a short drinking glass of bright color, silver script running around the rim. Her eyes were shining. And she looked up at him.

“How did you…” she breathed, unwrapping the slender pitcher next and placing it on the bar next to the first glass. 

Garrus grinned. “Any sniper worth their salt is observant.” She had unwrapped another glass and ran her finger along the rim. “It’s actually the set you were watching the glass blower make.” She stared at him in surprise. He shrugged, but searched her face and asked tentatively. “Do… do you like it?” 

She set the eighth and final glass on the bar before her. The light from the stars outside danced on the glass and cast pools of green light on the countertop’s surface. “I do.” she said softly. She took the bottle of Admiral Ra’an’s contraband booze and poured a healthy measure into two of the glasses, offering him one. He took it carefully. 

Shepard raised her glass to him and said, “I drink to my friend at my side and…” but she trailed off and then raised the glass, draining it completely. Garrus took a sip as well. It was strong stuff. He repressed a cough and marveled at the tiny titan who poured herself another glass and took a hearty sip without flinching.

She held the glass to her chest, staring out at the night sky. “Do you know that Mordin gave me advice on turian-human relations before that first night…” she said, smiling slightly.

Garrus coughed and not from the strong spirits he was sipping. Shepard chuckled. “And did you follow some of his advice?” He asked. 

She grinned and stepped back to the bed, sitting on the edge, nursing her drink. “I might be keeping up with a regimen of antihistamines.”

He considered her. “Do you wanna know a secret?” he said. She squinted at him slightly. His lip twitched at her unspoken sign to continue. He let out a long breath. “I was scared shitless.” He said. “It was way more intimidating than heading into the Collector base. I just…” he gazed at her. The bruises on her face, the scars and strands bright in the starlight, and those eyes. “I just wanted something to go right. Just once. Just…”

But the Commander pulled him onto the bed and silenced him with a kiss.

  
  


_ Shepard lay with her head resting on Garrus' chest. In just a few hours they would be landing on the Collector base. She supposed she should be worried about that. But her mind was completely occupied with the possibilities of other strategic moves.  _

_ She closed her eyes as she felt the talon on one of his fingers trace its way down her back and lower. Her body tingled in response. They had finished the last of the wine ages ago, it seemed. Exploring, and at times hungry kisses, punctuating their rather long swigs of wine. It wasn’t bad stuff. She had taken dextro histamines hours ago at Mordin’s teasing suggestion so she could enjoy the same drink and… other things. Her humanoid flesh was more likely to have adverse reactions to their recreation than his scaly hide. _

_ His mouth had been surprisingly soft. The scales below his nose were impossibly small, a bit like snake skin. She had been wary of his teeth at first but had learned that feeling them gently scrape the skin of her neck sent a thrill down her spine. He was maddeningly gentle. After a particularly light, slow exchange he pulled back a little, chuckling softly. _

_ “What?” She panted. She wasn’t sure when she had started breathing heavily.  _

_ “I ... I can hear, and feel, your heart beating really really fast, Shepard.” His smirk shifted to a look of true concern. “Are - are you ok? Do you need to stop, or...?” _

_ “What? No, definitely not.” she said. God no she didn’t want him to stop. Not now ... maybe not ever ... _

_ “So, it’s not a bad thing? It’s just ... “ he paused. “Usually if I’m this close to something with a heartbeat that rapid, it’s about to die ...” _

_ She snorted. “I’m glad you think so much of yourself. But, no. I’m not about to die. It’s a good sign in humans.” She wanted him bad. The gentleness had been delicious but she wanted more. “And you can stop being so careful.” She said, shifting in his lap so that she was straddling him now, looking down at him ever so slightly. God turians were tall. “I’m Commander Shepard, remember? I would have thought you’d fought with me enough by now to know ...” she leaned in, her lips hovering beside his left ear, and breathed, “I like it a little rough.” He growled. Well I guess that move works on turians as well. _

_ She pulled back and began kissing him passionately, throwing caution to the wind. His tongue brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. His tongue. Oh, God his tongue. It was long and pointed and the tiniest bit rough. She was very curious to see if she could talk him into seeing what he could do with it. She wasn’t sure how that would go over with turian culture, however. _

_ The interplay of their lips was endless. He tasted sweet and rich. It was easy to lose herself in kissing him. She definitely hadn’t needed the wine to want to do more. _

_ Now, as they lay on the bed however, her body calling out for access to more of his, she was glad of the slight haze of the wine, because she was still a smidge nervous. A talon once again snaked down her spine. _

_ “I’m surprised the fleshy aliens around you turians aren’t full of slashes and holes with those talons” she mused. _

_ His soft laugh rumbled in her ear. She could feel he’d turned his head, his hot breath now stirring her hair slightly. “The really sharp part is sheathable”' he said, lifting his other hand for her to see, and sure enough, from a hairline crevice in his talon, a razor sharp edge emerged.  _

_ “Well, that's not fair.” she said. “I can only do that if I have an omni-blade.” _

_ “It’s not that special.” He said, “I think you have far more fascinating features.”  _

_ “... like what? _

_ He laughed again. “Well, from what I’ve seen so far...” he paused and ran a talon down her jacket again. She’d never hated a garment for its mere existence more in her life. “I am amazed by how hot human’s mouths are… I literally mean temperature wise. And… I’m honestly fascinated by your hair.” He stroked it. “It’s like catching the wind in your hands.” _

_ She took the hand he’d shown her in her own, stroking and inspecting it gently. He unsheathed a talon again and ran her finger along the edge. She could feel that the barest pressure would have it splitting skin. She chuckled softly to herself. “These are handy. You can give me a haircut if fighting the Reapers takes too long. Especially since you like playing with it that much.” He laughed again. _

_ It was easy, being with him. Lying in his arms, she felt like she’d finally removed her helmet on a stable-atmosphere planet. She considered the talon again. “So ... can this cut through clothing?” she whispered. _

_ Ok, now she could definitely hear his heart beating faster. “We can find out… if that’s something you think you would like.” _

  
  


_ They lay on the bed. Their breath ragged at this point.  _ _ “You are an incredible little species.” Garrus rumbled.  _

_ “Really?” she asked. “Your species, I am quickly learning, has many unsung virtues. Starting with that wicked thing in your mouth.” He chuckled and she continued. “But what’s so special about us?” _

_ “Well…” he said softly, winding a tendril of her hair around his finger, “I will reiterate my infatuation with your hair and I am delighted by it’s… other primary location.” She chuckled, and he continued. “You are pretty small, completely vulnerable, you have none of your own armor, you are very soft” he said, drawing a finger down her neck. She shivered. “And yet you run around causing so much trouble. I don’t understand how any of you stay in one piece. No wonder you wear your armor so much.” _

_ Moria propped herself up on her elbows, scowling. “Ok, every race needs armor for bullets and stuff. But we’re not so soft. We can take a blow or two. We do alright in unarmed combat.” _

_ “Oh sure you do.” He pushed himself up and leaned further out over her. “Although Commander, if you’re so good at that, why have you let yourself be caught on your back like this?” In a flash Shepard wrapped her legs around the turian, knocked one of his arms out from under him and, with a twist, rolled the two of them diagonally across the bed, landing on top of him with her forearm against his windpipe. They were both breathing heavily again, though the move had not been strenuous. Shepard’s hair had cascaded forward and was gently tickling his cheek. _

_ “You’re cocky, Vakarian,” she said.”But I’ve had you right where I wanted you this whole time…” _

_ “Hot,” he croaked, “But not fair. I didn’t realize things would be getting that kind of physical.” _

_ She released his windpipe, slid off him and went to take a sip of water from a glass at the bar. “I guess big armored turians can be lazy,” she teased, “but us delicate humans have to be ready for anything.” _

_ He pushed himself up on his elbows and gave her a lingering look from the bed. The moonlight danced on his silver hide, his scales refracting the starlight. The interplay of light and shadows brought out his muscular form. She took another sip of water but her mouth still felt dry. “There are only a few parts of you I would ever describe as delicate, Shepard,” he drawled, “and they would only be delicate in flavor.” Ok… her knees did go a little weak at that. She tried to hide her blushing in another sip of water. _

_ He pushed himself up from the bed and walked to the empty space in the room at its foot. “How ‘bout a rematch? You got the jump on me that time.” he said, stretching his neck. “But, I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t offer the lady a dance.” _

_ She left the glass on the bar and silently walked forwards, coming extremely close to him. Close enough to feel his breath on her face, their noses almost touching. “Oh?” she breathed, “And you think the lady likes to dance?” _

_ He smirked. “I know you, Shepard.” he breathed. The smell of him was intoxicating. “I know you can’t resist an opportunity to show off.” _

_ In a flash, her eyes never leaving his, she brought a blow with the back of her right hand to his solar plexus. He caught it in one hand, his eyes ever locked on hers. And grinned. Oh, he had it coming now. Shepard used his hold on her to throw him behind her and then spun, pressing him towards the wall with a series of blows. Each of these he caught or deflected, then returned the volley, the long reach of his arms causing her to need to duck, dash beneath his arms and reverse the direction of their exchange. He was nearing the wall and she saw an opening in his form. She purposely began to leave her left side open. He saw the vulnerability and aimed a low punch, right into her trap. Simultaneously she brought a roundhouse kick with her right foot towards his left jaw. She grinned, anticipating the impact- but he caught her foot several inches from his face with his right arm. They remained frozen in that position for a few moments, both breathing heavily. Garrus’ back was against the wall and she was balanced on one leg, the other still in his grasp.  _

_ He grinned at her and, with an infuriating, self satisfied shrug, said, “Reach.” _

_ She grinned right back, then watched his eyes widen and mouth fall open as she leaned into the split her legs had already begun. She eased forward till her right leg was nearly in line with his torso, their faces now only a fraction of an inch from each other. She ran a finger over his bottom lip and breathed. “Flexibility...” _

_ “Spirits, woman.” He growled. He scooped her up in his arms. _

Garrus watched the rise and fall of Shepard’s chest. Her red hair gleamed in the soft light. The green of the Ta’hal she’d discarded on the bedside table behind her offset the richness of her hair. He tried not to be troubled by the bruises across her face and fresh ones across her chest. She’d told him about seeing Mordin and Legion in her visions. Not being able to breathe and Javik’s handling of the situation. Garrus didn’t understand why Echo had been able to bring her back when nothing else did, but he now owed a Reaper a debt of gratitude, which seemed deeply ironic. 

But she was breathing now. A few strands of hair had fallen across her face and one danced in the ebb and flow of air from her nose. Her nose twitched as the hair tickled it. Garrus carefully reached out and brushed the hair back from her face, hoping not to wake her, although she  _ had  _ consumed a significant portion of his bottle of quarian booze, so he was pretty sure she would be sleeping soundly for a while.  _ Damn. _ He’d forgotten to look for a barrette on Rannoch.

He heard something shift outside her cabin door. His head whipped around and he stared at the door, his breath shifting to a silent controlled flow as his adrenaline spiked. Something outside the door shifted its weight again. He took a long breath, testing the air. Human sweat, turian sweat, alcohol, sand, Shepard’s shampoo, the burn on her hoodie, and yes, faint but there: asari. He let out an exasperated huff of air and lay back on the bed. He heard the floor of the corridor shift again and the additional scent faded. He felt emotionally torn. He was genuinely sorry for Liara but also extremely glad to be lying here once again.

He looked back at Shepard and found those brilliant green eyes squinting at him. “What was that?” she breathed, sounding sleepy.

“Nothing.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing a kiss into her hair. “Just someone passing in the hall. Go back to sleep.”

She yawned but rolled to face him. “No. There’s something I need to talk to you about.” She said. “We need to leave Rannoch and go to Palaven. I need turian support if I’m going to take Sentinel’s case to the Council… and there’s a lot that needs to happen after that.”

Garrus nodded. “We’ll get Sparatus to listen.” He said firmly. “He’ll support you or he’ll have an angry boyfriend with a sniper rifle to worry about.”

Shepard grinned.

“Are you ready to leave Rannoch, though?” Garrus asked. “You haven’t been working with Javik very long. Not that I don’t consider you to be a quick study.”

Shepard nodded. “Javik said I have the ‘traumatic’ aspect of the PTSD under control. But now I have to deal with balancing my ‘fear and biotics’ or something. Point is, he said he couldn't actually help me with that. He said whatever happened on the Crucible awoke my biotics in a way they weren’t before. But he doesn’t know how to deal with that.” 

“Sounds like you need to hang out with one of your biotic monstrosity friends.” He said thoughtfully. He frowned and his eyes flicked to her. “Please not Jack.” He said quickly. “She’s… not as psychotic as she was before. But I have never been convinced that she has anything ‘under control.’ One soldier to another, I don’t think she would be the best person to train under, and boyfriend to Commander Shepard, please don’t make me share the ship with that livewire again.”

“Ahhh,” Shepard wined. “But Eezo is so fun!” 

Garrus scowled at her. “You would love a varren as a pet, wouldn’t you?” His gaze roved over her. “Are you actually the smallest, least-scaled Krogan in the galaxy? All the rage and danger of a Krogan in a deceptively sexy package?” He scratched a mandible. “That would explain a lot. Why my scars work so well on you…”

“Careful, Vakarian.” She growled. “Keep down this path and you're asking for a headbutt and an ass kicking.”

He groaned. “Great, I really have started dating a Krogan. What the hell is my mother going to say?” He gave a mock exasperated sigh. “Guess I’m out of the will.”

Shepard snorted. “I’ll see if I can get Traynor to track down Samara.”

“My un-varren-chewed up armor and guns thank you.” He gazed at the ceiling. “So on to Palaven, then?”

Shepard shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Yeah. Speaking of which… since your family is there...”

“We would obviously expect you to prioritize talking to Sparatus, but it might be easier if we have my father request the meeting with him. Turian politics are… rigid. Using the chain of command to get his attention might make him more amenable.”

“That’s fortunate.” she said. “But I wouldn’t have had you wait longer to see your family. Just… before you do. I feel like I have to ask… if you’re sure about this.”

Garrus frowned. “Sure about what?”

“About me.” Garrus opened his mouth to respond but she cut him off. “Just listen, ok? One: I’m a human. Our species doesn’t exactly have the best track record. Two: I don’t even understand what’s happening to me and… it shouldn’t be something that you get dragged into. You’re not Alliance. There is no reason you have to be part of any of this.”

“And what if I want to?” he demanded.

“Then… well. Then you just have to know that this is new and I don’t know what I’m doing. I…” He could hear her heart beating rapidly again, see the tension in her body. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I’ve wanted you…” She said. “You make me… you make me really worried about getting shot.” she said. Her eyes wide, boring into his, the idea clearly alarming to her. “I wasn’t particularly worried about that until we got together. But,” she added, eyes darkening. “There are things I have to do, and the list doesn’t seem to be getting shorter.” She held his gaze. “I just want you to be sure what you’re getting into.”

Garrus leaned forward and kissed her, long and slow. Then pulled back, “That’s the good thing about snipers. We start scouting the terrain pretty far ahead, so we usually know what we’re getting into. And I’ve outgrown C-Sec and the turian army. Going rogue with a twice dead, Reaper killing, ancient-alien-race-saving Spectre sounds like it will keep me sharp.” He continued kissing her, whispering between the moments their lips met. “And… one: you’re pretty great for a human, and I’m sure the rest of Palaven will see that. Two: whatever is happening to you saved my life, so I can take the growing pains till we figure it out. And... I stopped counting but I think three is next, three...” he pulled back, staring at her. He entwined his fingers in her hair and ran his thumb gently across her scarred and bruised cheek, losing himself in the deep green of her eyes. Eyes he trusted more than any others to see any shot or enemy that might slip past his guard. He whispered. “You make me not want to get shot, too.”


	8. Chapter Eight: The Lost and Left Behind

“Yes, there.” Javik said, gesturing to some landmarks Traynor had pulled up on the screen before her. “Send me those coordinates.” He said. “Sending now.” Traynor said, tapping a key on the screen. The omni-tool that had been fitted to Javik’s prothean armor emitted a beep and he tapped the display, confirming the receipt. “Excellent. I thank you, Traynor.” he said. 

“I didn’t know you were up here harassing the humans.” Said a rumbling voice from behind Javik. He turned to see Garrus emerging from the hallway behind him.

“Javik is always welcome.” Said Traynor diplomatically. 

“I needed arial scans of the eastern continent.” Javik said. “And Traynor was willing to oblige.”

“Did you need something, General?” Traynor asked.

“Yes, if you have a moment.” Garrus said. 

“Certainly, sir.” replied Traynor.

“I need you to get a message to the Justicar Samara.” Said Garrus, scratching his head. “See if anyone on Thessia knows where she is. Checking in with Liara might not be a bad idea either.” Traynor nodded. “The message should state that her presence is requested on Palaven by Commander Shepard and Clan Vakarian.”

“Yes, sir.” Traynor said, nodding quickly.

Garrus turned to Javik. “Actually, while you're here Javik, do you have a moment?” The turian asked cryptically.

Javik frowned slightly. He liked the turian and had enjoyed dining with him and hearing Garrus’ thoughts on Legion’s growth and the strangeness of the salarian homeworld. Javik had said it had been a pity Garrus had not enlisted the salarian surgeons in giving him an extra pair of eyes as it would greatly have improved his aim, which had caused the turian to snort; choking on his drink, some of it coming out of his nostrils. Garrus had said that he would have Shepard add it to his medical orders for the next time he was inevitably shot to shit. “Yes, of course, Garrus.” He said. And followed the turian down the corridor.

* * *

Javik considered the intricately carved wooden box Garrus had handed him. He stared at the turian for a moment and slipped it into a carrying pouch on his armor. “Yes, Garrus Vakarian. I will serve you in this way.” He said.

Garrus let out a breath he had been holding and nodded. “Thank you.” He said tensely. “You’ll know when.”

“You are departing Rannoch this evening, correct, and returning to your home world?” Asked Javik.

“Yeah.” Garrus said. He leaned with his elbows on the railing of the upper level of the war room, staring out the huge window at the gleaming quarian planet below the Normandy.”

“Have you received reports of how reconstruction is going there?” Javik asked. It was widely known that Palven had been one of the planets hardest hit by the Reapers.

“Yes.” Garrus breathed. “It’s bad and slow,” he said. Javik could see that the turian's jaw was tight. “Personnel shortages are an extreme issue. We sent a lot of my people to Sanctuary.” His eyes were hollow. He turned to stare at the prothean, changing the subject. ”You’re sure about remaining here?”

“For the time being.” Javik said. “I remember the quarians from my time. With all that they lost to the Geth and the time they spent on the Migrant Fleet they are not so different now than they were in my cycle.” He shrugged. “It makes me feel a little less out of place.” Garrus nodded. “And the Geth and Echo are my best chance of finding my people.” The prothean added softly. 

“I will be sure to send word if we hear or see anything about them.” Garrus said. “The Reapers were everywhere at once. There are bound to be some on Palaven.”

“I thank you for that, Vakarian.” Javik said. “I should get back down to Rannoch. There is something I have to go over with Liara.” Before he could turn to leave, Garrus spoke.

“Before you go…” Garrus straightened. “Look, Javik. I like you but-” Before the prothean could move or do anything, Garrus connected a right hook with Javik’s face. The crack of exoskeleton on exoskeleton echoed in the war room and it was silent in the aftermath, apart from the males’ heavy breathing. Javik spat green blood onto the floor. Garrus shook his right hand, glaring, and said, “that was for trying to kill Shepard in the medbay.”

Javik ran a hand along the side of his throbbing face. He found it slightly remarkable that the turian had managed to land the blow. Javik had been very distracted, which made it less impressive and honorable, yet he could not fault the stealth combatant for his tactical choice in timing. “Given the circumstances…” he said slowly, Garrus still scowling at him, “I deemed punching Shepard in the jaw as appropriate recompense for her not destroying the Reapers.” He spat more blood onto the floor. “I would suppose that my actions would entitle you to exact similar retribution. To put it simply… I deserved that.” Garrus nodded once, his breath slowing.  
Javik gave the turian an appraising stare. “I am glad you did not perish, Garrus Vakarian. I enjoy your company.”

“As do I.” Said Garrus. “But never go after Shepard again.”

Javik cocked his head to one side. “I will do my best.”

* * *

The engines of the Normandy’s drop shuttle hummed as Cortez steered it up and away. The human would rendezvous again with Javik and Liara in a few hours. Garrus had withheld his questions that morning when the prothean had asked if he could “borrow your girlfriend’s shuttle,” but made arrangements for their trip that afternoon. 

They had landed on the eastern continent, an area dense with twisted jungles at the base of a mountain range. Liara shielded her face from the bright sun, taking in the new terrain around them. “This is fascinating, Javik,” she said. “But I don’t see what it has to do with trying to communicate with the Ascendant. Are there more Ascendant living on this continent?” She asked.

“No.” He said. “And this is… perhaps not directly connected to our work, but I think you will find it to be worth your time.” Her expression made it clear that she still had misgivings. “Do you trust me, Liara T’Soni?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said slowly.

Javik  repressed  a smile. “Then follow me.”

They walked deeper into the dense jungle in the foothills of the mountain range. Javik could hear and smell other organic life forms scampering away as the bipedal pair tread where none like them had been for generations. Javik paused, eyeing a mossy outcrop of sloping rock, a rare formation in the otherwise wooded area. He scraped at the slightly sandy dirt beneath his feet. It was shallow here and with little effort his boot swept the earth away from a layer of stone hidden underneath. Surprisingly regular lines ran across its surface and Javik nodded approvingly. He turned to Liara who had been watching him skeptically with crossed arms. 

“Take a look around you,” he said. “What do you see?”

Liara frowned. “I see unexplored and possibly dangerous jungle and a prothean who is withholding information.” 

Javik kept his face impassive. “Look more closely, doctor.” 

Liara uncrossed her arms with a sigh and tapped open her omni-tool, using it to assist her eyes in scanning her surroundings.

“The foliage is not of any species I have seen on other planets, but bears similar markers and chemical structure to the ones that have seen planted in Legion.” She said. “They are rather unremarkable. There are some small mammalian and reptilian life forms in the surrounding trees but nothing particularly large. Thankfully.” She added, shooting the last word at him pointely. “And…” she paused looking through her omni-took at the ground beneath her feet. “The topsoil here is very thin with thick stone beneath. Although that’s not too remarkable given that we are in the foothills of this mountain range. But there are irregular structures beneath...a cavern system wouldn’t be impossible. These would be large, though, and they seem oddly regular in dimensions.” Liara’s gaze fell upon the sloping boulder and she tilted her head to the side. She slowly crossed to it and ran a hand along the surface, her omnitool displaying information regarding its composition. Her eyes widened at something she saw there and she swiftly closed her omnitool. She was beginning to breathe fast. She reached out and carefully began to peel some of the moss from the face of the boulder. Once she had cleared a section she ran her hand over the surface, wiping away some of the loose dirt, revealing a symbol carved into the rock face. “Prothean…” she breathed, her eyes shining.

She stood up, swiftly crossing to a smaller stone several feet away, partially covered in creeping vines and roots. She scanned the composition with her omnitool and nodded excitedly. She raised her arm, scanning the device again. She followed something on its screen to a hanging wall of vines, pushed them back, and gasped at what lay behind it. The four foot base of a crumbling column stood before her, heavily damaged but still with discernible carvings ringing the base. Her head snapped to him. “These…” She said breathlessly. “These are prothean ruins. Here on Rannoch!”

The corner of Javik's mouth lifted. “I have told you that my people knew the quarians.” He said. “We were influencing their development as well as that of the Asari. We had a settlement here. Many considered it to be a pleasant destination for recreation.”

“But that’s… why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not looking at him, eyes still roving over the carvings on the column. 

“It was not relevant to our work in communicating with the Ascendent. But I thought you should see it before you and the Normandy made your departure.”

Liara turned and beamed at him. “Thank you. This… this is incredible. I have not come across carvings like that before. There has been nothing like them by the prothean beacons we found. Perhaps since those had a more utility-focused nature the surrounding constructions were simpler? If you were saying this was a place of pleasure and recreation a more detailed facade would make sense.” She gazed around excitedly. “I won’t know until I send for my excavation equipment.” She said. “I have to clear a lot of this away to know what I’m really looking at.” She was clearly talking to herself now, lost in her tumbling and excited thoughts, Javik’s presence completely forgotten.

He smiled and said softly, “Do you want to see what it was like?”

Liara stopped and stared at him. She’d stopped breathing.

“I visited this place when it still stood.” Javik continued. “I can show you. If that is something you would want.”

“Yes.” She said swiftly, crossing to him. “By the Goddess, yes.” 

“You will have to connect to my mind.” he said. “If you maintain the connection as we walk I will be able to show you the extent of this settlement. However,” he extended a hand towards her. “I would recommend using me for physical support as the terrain beneath your feet will not match what you are seeing.” 

Liara placed her delicate, dirt covered hand in his. “I am ready,” she said excitedly, “if you are.”

Javik smiled slightly. “Yes. Welcome, Liara,  to  Requi Cura.” 

He felt her presence wrap around his mind. It was very different from the sensation of the rapid information exchange his species practiced. The Asari’s abilities had clearly morphed and grown a great deal since the initial efforts his people had made to shape them. Remembering his thoughts were no longer private, Javik brought Requi Cura to the forefront of his mind.

_ A tiled courtyard spread beneath their feet. The towering trees that had surrounded them were gone, replaced with elegant columns reaching far above them, supporting a gently sloping ceiling several hundred feet above. They stood in the base of the Atrium, a historical structure of pleasure and ease now converted to a tactical base. The sky peaking through the alabaster column was bright and clear, and gleaming prothean war ships sailed through the spaces between the columns to docking bays on upper levels further back in the Atrium. Temporary shelters and pieced together facilities ringed the base of the massive columns, all constructed of timber and canvas. Smoke rose from cooking fires. Javik could tell by the smell in the air that some inept cook was burning the turian. Excellent, he thought sarcastically, the meat could be tough enough if not handled correctly. Burning it would not make it more palatable. They must have needed to use thermal units elsewhere if they were preparing food over an open flame. That did not bode well. He could see the smoke drifting up the columns and into the shadows of the sloping ceiling above.  _ Javik felt the curiosity of his younger self in the memory. He had been sent here to resupply and gather additional members of his team before retreating to oversee security and preparations for eventual stasis on the Chrysalis. _ He did not usually hold much regard for historical monuments. His superiors had found his focus on the task at hand and clear direction commendable and he believed it was part of the reason for his rapid advancement. _ Yet  _ the graceful vault of the ceiling above him… he could not stop staring at it. He would satisfy his curiosity and be done with it. _

_ He pulled the memory shard he carried from its sheath on his armor and grasped it tightly in his hands, focusing on the structure around him as he did. Images shifted and flashed through his mind and then eventually settled into a view of the Atrium. The mosaic floor beneath him shone, the colored tiles depicting star charts of this system. The blues, golds and sparkling marble made him almost believe he was walking across the stars as his ancestors had, making one star system after another their home. The underside of the sloping roof of the Atrium was similarly decorated but it depicted the constellations above Primatch, the original prothean homeworld, a reminder of the greatness from which he and his people had come. Small open ships that must have been pleasure crafts soared to and from the docking bays of the Atrium. He could hear laughter and music echoing off the stone. He walked across the mosaic floor towards the edge of the vast space.  _ Javik began walking deeper into the jungle, guiding Liara who gazed around her, mouth open in wonder as she took in the visions of the past.  _ He passed a seating area at the base of one of the enormous support columns ringed in smaller ones.  _ He steered Liara around the ruined column she had found earlier.  _ Low stone benches stretched between them. Beside a shelf of slim metal glasses was a water feature to quench the thirst of any on this hot planet. He stepped from the shadows of the Atrium and stared down the hill. The native jungle had been cleared away and the city extended down the hill on a series of enormous curving steps. The Atrium marking the center of their summit and the hub of meetings and transportation. Elegant buildings punctuated the steps spreading below him. Many had entrances marked with columns and nearly all had sprawling open patios with carefully maintained foliage. A set of stairs ran all the way down the center of the descending curved landings, a series of constructed and intricately decorated waterfalls flanking either side of the massive stair. They stretched perhaps a mile and half down the hill before flowing into a large lake at the base of the city, its sparkling surface marred only by spray from low skimming crafts. _

_ Protheans in ancient flowing robes and armor descended the steps before him and walked in and out of the Atrium at his back. Some had personal VI strolling beside them, the protheans casually dictating commands to the semi-transparent avatars of their species. He could see children sprinting through some of the streets below; VI flickering in and out of sight in pursuit of some rogue organic charges. _

_ The buildings were more highly decorated than anything he had seen elsewhere. Facades depicting scenes from prothean history as well as tableaus illustrating activities of pleasure bedecked the sides of some buildings and the bases of columns. The buildings of the tier immediately below him had large entrances perhaps three stories tall, and above each doorway stood a statue of a prothean with an arm outstretched towards the lake below, flanked by backwards bowlegged quarians, the primitive bipedal species native to his planet. This must have marked these buildings as the Cosmic Imperative Institutions, the centers for developmental work for primitive species.  _

_ The wind off the lake below drifted up to him, carrying the scent of something heavily spiced and delicious. They moved towards the edge of the stairs.  _ Javik extricated his mind from his younger self and his connection to the shard and pulled gently on Liara’s hand as she tried to follow the ancient Prothean’s memories down the hill to whatever delicacy was being prepared in that lost world. She stopped at his tension, staring out from the cliff edge they had come to stand before, looking at the choking jungle below and the lake that now just barely peaked out of  the lush canopy of the valley. She ran a hand over a stone that rose to her hip that had once been part of the ancient, enormous staircase and then looked at him. Her eyes were gleaming and she wiped some moisture from below one with the back of her hand.

Javik felt caught off guard. “I am sorry.” He said quickly. “I had not intended to cause you distress. I believed this would-”

“No,” Liara said, wiping her face again, her tears and dirty hands leaving streaks of mud on her cheeks. “It was wonderful. I… I never thought I would see them… your people like that.”

Javik considered her. “I have heard you speak about writing a book on protheans. If this still interests you, I could assist, if you like.” He said hesitantly. “I would like my people to be remembered the way that you see them. I think it would honor who we were before the Reapers came.”

“Javik,” she said gazing at him. “I know we have not yet found any sign of the harvested protheans. But we will. And no matter what happens...” She stared out at the valley below as if she could still see the shining lost city. “I will make sure they are not forgotten.”

* * *

The doors sighed open and Shepard stepped into the cool shadows of the Harvest Memorial Tower. She pushed her ta’hal back on her head a little. She’d found that they turned out to be rather helpful for shielding her eyes in the sun-baked climate. Spots swam in her vision as it adjusted to the darker interior. There were windows above sending shafts of light through the cavernous space, but the lower entryway had many pools of cool shadows. She walked slowly towards the fountain in the center of the entry hall, the echo of her boots on the stone were the only sound. Despite being the central hub of Rannoch, the space was empty save for her. That seemed right somehow. 

Shepard neared the base of the fountain that served as a war memorial for the growing settlement. A jagged shard of metal rose from a pool of water in the center of the floor, water cascading down its side. The towering shard had been torn from the hull of the first ship of the Migrant Fleet to be lost while fighting the reaper-controlled geth. Shepard could see scratches and burn marks under the shimmering water, but it was now decorated with other images as well. All of the quarian ships that had been lost in the battles for Rannoch and Earth had been carved into the metal face. The shimmering light of the water both running down the enormous shard and in the pool below made it seem like they were soaring in a peaceful, star-filled sky that would never again be troubled by wars. 

The edge of the pool was ringed with a small garden of plants with numerous star-shaped white flowers. Following the instructions Tali had shared earlier, Shepard plucked one of the blossoms from the plant, knelt, and gently set it in the rippling waters with a whispered, “Thank you.” The tiny white “star” slowly glided towards the center of the pool where it mingled with a dozen other blossoms the people of Legion had set adrift, each prayer and thanks adding a gleaming star to the skies that were now the resting place of the lost members of their fleet.

Shepard remained sitting in silence for a few moments, the soft trickling of the water easing the ache in her chest. Two carvings at the top of the monument caught her eye. There was a series of sweeping peaks etched above the last ships of the Migrant Fleet. Someow, the skyline of the city on Echo’s homeworld had been carved near the top of the quarian monument. She wondered if Admiral Ra’an had had a hand in placing it there. It felt right, that the loss of the synthetics and organics that now lived on Rannoch were honored together. There was another symbol just above the skyline, one she did not recognize. She wondered if it was another skyline, but… that didn’t seem right, it was too uniform. Five slim peaks made of a continuous line filled the space at the top of the monument. The center most was the tallest, the next tallest the two on the very outside, then the second and fourth. Just below them were two tapering ovals shaped almost like leaves. She had no idea what it was but had the strange sensation that she had seen it before.

The door opened and the sound of another pair of footsteps rang through the space. They seemed strangely loud. Shepherd turned and found Liara walking towards where she knelt. Liara gracefully took a seat beside Shepard and the two stared at the waters for a moment.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the asari said.

“Have you seen it before?” asked Shepard.

Liara nodded. “Admiral Ra’an and Tali brought Garrus, EDI and I here the first night you were working with Javik.” Then she asked, “Did you add a flower to the waters?” 

Shepard nodded. 

Liara stared at the drifting blossoms and said quietly. “Mine was for my mother.” She let out a breath and then asked in a small voice, “Was that a waste?”

Shepard took her friend's hand in hers, squeezing gently and whispered, “No.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Shepard saw a smile growing on Liara’s face. Shepard raised an eyebrow at the asari. Liara’s eyes flicked to Shepard with a nervous excitement. “Guess what, Shepard?” she breathed.

“What?” asked Shepard with a slight frown.

Liara was tense for a moment with held excitement and then whispered, as if trying very hard not to disturb the peaceful air with their excitement, “There are prothean ruins here!”

Shepard burst out laughing and fell onto her back. She couldn’t stop herself. The sound bounced around the huge chamber, shattering the silence.

“Shhhh!” Liara hissed, trying to press a hand over the Commander’s mouth, but then Shepard started snorting loudly, having enough trouble breathing through her manic crackle without the asari blocking an airway.

A quarian stuck its head out a door from down a hallway to their left and called, “Show some respect!” Shepard tried to restrain her laughter, her sides shaking with the effort. They heard the door snap shut and Liara snorted with suppressed laughter herself. After a few long breaths that required a great deal of effort, Shepard managed to speak. “That’s exciting, Liara.”

Liara elbowed her and Shepard winced. She had bruises everywhere from working with Javik and her side was aching anew from laughing so hard. Liara gave the Commander an apologetic glance and then said seriously. “I hate to tell you this, but... I think I’m going to stay here on Rannoch.”

Shepard’s face fell. “Oh, ok” she said, biting her lip. “I… are you sure? We’ll miss you. But, if that’s what you want to do or if you need -” Shepard babbled, then stopped herself. “Of course, do whatever you want, whatever makes you happy,” Shepard finally managed. “But you’re always welcome on the Normandy.”

“I know I am.” Liara said with a sigh. “But, these ruins are huge. There are subterranean caverns, and Javik, he said he would help me understand them, and he needs my help communicating with Echo - and that offers its own possibilities for research. I haven’t even begun really exploring their culture…” She took a deep breath, stemming the tumbling tide of possibilities. “I can work as the Shadow Broker here on Rannoch as well as I could on the Normandy, and I can of course still share any information you need.“ Shepard nodded in thanks. “But working from Rannoch may actually assist with anonymity.” She added, “It’s so underdeveloped it would be highly unlikely for someone with as much influence as the Shadow Broker to be here.”

“It makes a lot of sense and sounds exciting.” Shepard said, “I… I’ll just miss you.”

Liara gave her a long look. “I know, Shepard.” She shifted on the ground. “But… you’re heading to Palaven… and… there isn’t really anything on the Normandy for me… is there?” she said, her voice trailing off.

Shepard bit her lip and studied her hands for a moment. Her green eyes lifted back to Liara’s graceful features. “No, you’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Liara smiled sadly and shrugged slightly. “It’s a big universe and I’ll always be grateful for how much of it I’ve seen with you.” She gave Shepard a soft, mischievous smile. “I also owe you for making sure it’s all still here for me to explore.”

Shepard smiled softly, “Anything for you, Liara.” The truth and lie of the words hung in the air between the old friends.

Shepard clambered to her feet. “I’d better get up to the Normandy before they leave without me.” She said. She placed a hand gently on Liara’s shoulder. “I’ll have your things sent down.”

“Admiral Ra’an can give you the details of where I’ll be staying.” Liara said. “Oh, and you better tell Glyph about the change of plans. I’m sure EDI won’t want him bouncing around the Normandy all the way to Palaven.”

Shepard squeezed Liara’s shoulder gently in acknowledgement. She was about to pull away when Liara caught her hand, turning her own face and placing it into Shepard’s palm. Shepard stood there for a moment before gently taking Liara’s hand in both of her own. She bent forward and pressed a kiss to the asari’s forehead and whispered, “I’ll see you soon.”

And Liara let Shepard go.

The Commander left her sitting before the gleaming waters, but not before pressing a stolen, crumpled piece of paper into the asari’s hand.

* * *

Shepard stood before the galaxy map, hands on the railing before her. The Normandy thrummed around her. She stared into the sea of stars and felt th e tingle of that rushing high that came from standing here in the rare moments where she was truly in control. Most of the time she came here laden with assignments, errands and the looming threat of potential casualties from the orders assigned to her by the admirals of the Alliance. But sometimes, she climbed to this spot and held her own destiny in her hands.

Her eyes roved from one star system to another. Her very soul seemed to sing in echo of the Normandy's engines. She could go anywhere,  _ anywhere,  _ if she wanted. She’d been fortunate for much of her career in having an agreeable and obedient crew, but in the wake of the war with the Reapers… she knew every soul on this ship would sail with her… to whatever end. Palaven gleamed to her left, nestled in the heart of the turian-controlled system, but her eyes strained towards the Relays at the outermost edges of the map’s current display, and the possibilities that lay beyond. With just a few words she could go anywhere. With the right Relay jumps, in half a day she could soar beyond even the Alliance’s reach. She, Joker and EDI could find out what this ship really was capable of and she could - she could do whatever the hell she wanted to do… and right now there was no one to stop her.

There was power and weight in that privilege. As far as they might follow her, she knew it also meant that she decided if each soul on this ship lived or died. The joys and sorrows of those who filled her crew members' lives also lay in her hands alone. A prick of light glided along the top of one heavily laden hand. For years she had watched the display of the galaxy map paint those who accessed it with light, but this was different. An ember of that strange green light crept from the underside of her hand and over her knuckles, fading into the back of her hand.

She closed her eyes, listening to the Normandy: the engine, the slight creaks of the floor as her crew worked around her, the sigh of doors sliding open and the soft harmony of the ventilation system. She knew this ship better than she knew her own body now. It had changed less than she had in the last few months. She was still catching new scars in the mirror as she dressed, undressed and did...undressed activities in her cabin. But the Normandy… she could hear if the ship needed a new air filter, could feel when the engines needed tuning, knew the sound of the cannons when Garrus had been a little overzealous in his calibrations, and could smell when Gardener was trying to be polite and creative but really needed her to pick up more diverse supplies for the mess.

She would never be the pilot Joker was (she, and even EDI had agreed that he truly was a freak) but she could guide the Normandy anywhere from that railing. She could push it to its very limits, let the engines roar in joy at all they were capable of. Shepard suddenly felt that slight dragging weight, that sensation that the very air was pushing on her as the Normandy accelerated. Her heartbeat quickened, keeping pace with the building rhythm of the Normand’s engines. A soft hiss of static crept into the air. A gleaming spark of green light ran from the control panel and up Shepard’s arm.

At a terminal a few meters away beeped an alarm and EDI slowly turned her head towards the Commander as the AI felt the change. The Normandy’s acceleration increased. “Commander.” The AI called softly. 

Shepard’s eyes flashed open suddenly and the Normandy began to decelerate. She eyed the AI apologetically and pushed off the railing, walking around the map and down the corridor towards the bridge, Garrus following from where he had been watching her in the shadows of the corridor to the rear.

  
  


He’d been watching her. He did that sometimes. He was a sniper. He watched lots of things, and in his time as a C-Sec officer he’d found that definite tactical and conversational advantages could be gained by standing just before a threshold for a few moments before entering an area. He’d been transfixed by her staring into the map. The light gleaming on every scar and strand, her face unreadable as she took in the universe at her feet. Her hair, longer every day, it seemed, in the wake of the war with the Reapers, seeming to turn a hundred different colors in the gleam from the galaxy map. He wondered what she saw in those stars that he could not. 

He felt the change in the ship when she closed her eyes. Somehow felt the woman and vessel become one. It wasn’t like when she’d lost control and that deadly mind had become one with the warship. This was different, a small unleashing of some undiscovered power. And he wondered if the stars they sailed past quivered in its wake. He saw the rest of the crew around notice the change but only the AI, it seemed, was truly aware of the cause, calling Shepard back to herself without alarming the crew. Shepard straightened, sweeping that hair of hers up into a tousled bun, a subconscious ritual he knew well now, one that meant she was about to get to work. She started down the hallway towards the bridge and he followed.

He was fairly certain she knew he was there now. He watched the crew she passed straighten at their stations as the Commander walked by, her very presence stirring the spirit of the ship. Joker’s updates on their flight echoed through the comm system. “Atmosphere cleared. Accounting for gravitational field. Maintaining vectors. Stable orbit achieved,” He finished as Shepard reached the bridge and stood just behind him. Joker glanced over a shoulder, nodding. “Commander, we have exited Rannoch’s atmosphere.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Happened a little more quickly than my flight plan but everything seems normal  _ now.”  _ The last word carried an unspoken accusation. Garrus thought he caught Shepard giving a slight apologetic shrug. 

Shepard stared at the reclaimed quarian homeworld below and the systems gleaming in the dark void beyond its reflected brilliance. She was quiet for a moment. Garrus wondered if the ship felt empty to her with the Shadow Broker’s cabin now deserted, as Javik’s and many others had been for months now. He knew she was an only child, unlike him. She had a tendency to gripe about the hassle of running a ship crowded with more than six species and several eccentric individuals who’s strong suits rarely seemed to include playing nicely with others. He had definitely heard her rant at the top of her lungs about picky eaters and goddamn over-sensitive senses of smell and how her solution to the next complaint would be to kill two varren with one bullet and feed the complaining  party to Grunt or Javik; and if Grunt or Javik were either of the aforementioned complaining parties, she would drop the pair on the nearest barren rock with a hint of an atmosphere and pick the survivor up after their exercise and meal. Despite all her blustering he had the feeling she was one of those people who would have liked to have grown up in a big noisy house and actually slept more soundly in a ship full of the fascinating creatures that had come into her life over the past few years. She had certainly been quick to fill Anderson’s apartment on the citadel with their rowdy bunch and almost too happily kept the various forms of alcohol flowing all night, inviting everyone to stick around (to his slight frustration, if he was being honest).

Garrus wondered how she felt about Liara staying behind.  His own thoughts on the subject were rather tangled and he felt a surprisingly strong sense of gratitude to Javik for showing her the ruins there. The asari was charming, and downright hilarious when she went prothean crazy over some new discovery, but he would not miss seeing the blue figure hovering in the shadows at the end of the hall to Shepard’s cabin, nor the slight guilt it stirred in him. He hadn’t expected Javik or Tali to join them when so much work awaited them on Rannoch. He knew he would miss them. Although he felt a little better about Shepherd’s ability to stay in one piece at a greater distance from the prothean, especially in the wake of Javik’s lack of actually promising not to try to kill Shepard again. Although the Commander would probably take it as a compliment if he shared that detail with her.

“Orders, Commander?” asked Joker. By Shepard’s slight shake of her head, Garrus suspected she too had been lost in thoughts. She released a small sigh through her nose that seemed to be tinged with both regret and hope, and glanced slightly back over her shoulder to where he stood a few feet behind her.  _ Ok, she’d definitely known he was there all along. _

“Set course and full speed to Palaven,” She said. She caught Garrus’ eye and added softly, “Take us home.”

* * *

The red haired woman finished the elaborate braid. Her body reflected in the mirror was lean and whole. There were some silvery scars threaded along her torso, trailing behind the black lace bra and underwear she wore. She opened the closet, searching for a dress uniform. A rough pair of hands slid across her stomach and hot breath crept across the back of her neck. 

“Spirits, woman.” Garrus breathed in her ear. She reached out for the uniform.

“Oh, you don’t need that.” The turian that had crept up behind her said. “I think you look perfect already.” She grinned and leaned back into him as his hands continued to roam.

“I don’t think the Primarch or your family would think it was very appropriate attire.” She said, chuckling.

“Listen Shepard, if you look like that I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.” He rumbled, his finger circling her navel. She batted the hand away, elbowed him, and slipped into the dress pants. Garrus sighed in lament as she slid the jacket on, but stepped forward and gently swept the braid back from her neck as she did the last of the buttons, before setting the hair back in place with a gentle stroke. His eyes roved over her uniform. “Mmmm. Well, that’s a different kind of hot. That look works pretty damn well too, if you ask me.” He said with a wolfish grin.

“You are shameless.” she hissed. He stepped in close and his hands resumed their roaming. The red haired woman slowly turned and her green eyes bored into Shepard’s. “And you are mine.”

Moria wanted to scream, to run, to push whatever that  _ thing _ was away from Garrus, to stop him from touching it, from kissing it as he was now, hands gently cradling the other Commander’s neck. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She was frozen in the corner of  _ her _ cabin and all she could do was watch. Garrus’ thumb caressed the strand-free face of the woman, the thing that was not Moria Shepard but had her eyes and hair and voice, and then he disappeared into the bathroom. The thing stared back at Moria. “You’re not real,” it said. “You’re just PTSD. Just my fears if I hadn’t managed to replace you. If I hadn’t been able to eliminate the core members of her team. If I hadn’t realized that keeping Vakarian would sell the lie.” It scowled at her. “You are not real. I am Commander Shepard now.” Moria’s heart pounded but she remained uselessly frozen, watching this thing speak and move about her cabin. “I watched the Illusive Man die.” It continued “Watched the light fade in the eyes of that fool who made me for parts. I outlived him. I destroyed the Reapers. I command the Normandy.”

Moria wanted to be sick with the wrongness of it. Anger burned within her. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t move. Didn’t understand how her clone was here in her cabin with her - with Garrus. She pushed with everything she was and managed to growl. “You are not me!”

The clone grinned, fiddling with a ring of scraped metal on her left hand. “No,” she said. “I’m not you. I am better than you.”

Garrus emerged from the bathroom in his own formal uniform. Moria tried to scream his name but could only manage a faint hiss of air. He didn’t see or hear her. He wrapped his arms around non-Shepard again and murmured in her ear. “I am so proud to walk beside you on Palaven. To stand with you before my family. My people.” The words were like a blast to Moria’s gut. It was wrong. Everything was wrong. 

The clone continued to stare at Moria, leaning back into Garrus’ embrace. It spoke to her and it was as if Garrus couldn’t hear the words. “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” it hissed. “Now it’s my turn. You would have wasted being ‘Commander Shepard,’ but I won’t. Now I get to live. I get to be free. To do whatever I want. To take…” its hand ran across Garrus’ face and he leaned into its caress, “whatever I want.”

“He’s not yours.” Moria managed to growl. 

Her clone grinned. “Look at him.” It said as Garrus’ hands moved tenderly across its body. “Of course he’s mine.”

“You’re not real,” Moria groaned, still pressing with her body, her biotics, her mind against whatever force held her.

“Oh but I am.” the woman in Garrus’ arms said, “I’m you without the wear and tear… the doubts… the failures… without the emotional baggage to stop me from destroying the Reapers so that organics can live.” She eyed Moria in disgust. “You would have prioritized a few rogue AI over ensuring peace. You would have risked all life when there was a guaranteed way to destroy them.” The clone grinned as Garrus kissed its neck. “How could you be the real thing if you were going to jeopardize this?”

Moria wanted to scream, to run at that thing in Garrus’ arms. To tear him away from it or pound screaming on his chest till he sensed her there. To blast her biotics at it; tear that monster to smithereens with her bare hands. 

“Thank you for saving us. All of us.” Garrus whispered in its ear.  _ No, this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.  _ Shepard thought.

“You,” Shepard spat, “are not. Me.”

The clone grinned and shrugged. “Perhaps not. But I’m everything you’ll never be.”

The doors to Shepard's cabin slid open and Garrus turned, grinning as he saw who entered. “Well look who's here, Moria.” He said softly. Small feet patted on the ground. Red hair streamed behind a slim little figure whose head bore a crest of horns. Not-Shepard smiled and swept the child into her arms. The little one beamed back, her narrow face bearing her father's tattoos and bright green eyes.


	9. Chapter Eight: Old Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Garrus face new challenges arising as they head to Palaven. Will the history of human-turian relations prevent Shepard from getting the help she needs to keep the galaxy on the right path?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR NOTE: In this chapter, I begin to tip-toe into some head cannon/alternative universe content that I have created. I think it is kind of interesting and hope you will too. I have created my own take on the turian world, history, culture and Garrus' family. If something does not align with the trilogy lore from this point forward it is likely due to a conscious choice in order to share something a little different. Happy reading! Comments and thoughts welcome!

Shepard woke up screaming. The green eyes were burned into her mind. Her heart was pounding. She tried to push herself up, but her hand wouldn’t move. She kicked at the sheets around her, hitting something hard.

“Ow! Moria!” Garrus barked. “Moria, you need to calm down.” _Why couldn’t she move her hand?_ She tried to sit up again, but Garrus grabbed her arm. “Moria,” he said slowly, “I’m serious. I need you to calm down. I need you to stay still.” She could still see a green glow in the dark cabin, see those eyes in that crested head, hear the voice, _her voice_ hiss, “everything you’ll never be…”

“Commander, look at me!” Garrus snapped. She blinked and looked to where he lay on the bed next to her. He was still on his back, his chest rising and falling surprisingly quickly. His face was a mask of forced calm, his eyes full of concern. “I need you to stay still.” He said. “I need you not to move your arm.” He squeezed the arm in question gently. Shepard looked down. 

She had been sleeping in the crook of his arm, as she nearly always did, her right hand resting on his chest. It was still there, lit with green strands like the rest of her. _The strands!_ It was really her. The clone hadn’t had them. She was the real Shepard. She wasn't dreaming. This was real. He was real, here with her, not in the thrall of some monstrosity. The glowing strands ran down her arm, across her hand, and onto his chest. They had spread several inches from her hand. Had dug into his carapace, winding their way into him. Her eyes went wide.

“Moria, don’t -” Garrus began, but she snatched her hand back out of his grip, shrieking in pain as her hand ripped away from him. The green of the strands flashed when she severed their connection to Garrus, the long tendrils suddenly vanishing. He gasped in pain, pressing his hand to the space where hers had been. After a moment he pulled his hand a way, his fingers stained blue. 

Shepared stared at her hand. It stung as if the skin had been scraped off, but was whole. A collection of strands rose from her fingers and palm in a way she had never seen before, as if they were growing out of her.

“EDI!” Garrus called out to the AI. “Get Chakwas to the Commander’s cabin. Now.”

/./././././././././././././././

“Well, it's going to leave a mark, but I don’t believe there has been any serious damage.” Chakwas said, squinting as she held her medically enhanced omni tool over Garrus’ chest, inspecting the magnified view of the spider webbing grooves it now bore. “They did penetrate deep enough to reach the circulatory system, but I don’t see anything major. Clotting has not been inhibited and there doesn’t seem to be any structural damage to the carapace significant enough to stop it from protecting your vital organs.”

Garrus looked from where he sat on the bed, being scrutinized by Chakwas, to where Shepard crouched in the corner, staring hollowly into space. Her right hand was gripped by her left, holding it a few inches out from the rest of her body, knuckles white as if the hand might unleash some new horror. Chakwas had tried to tend to her first but Shepard had whispered that she would throw the doctor off the ship if she didn't heal Garrus this minute.

“Damn it, Shepard,” he said. Her eyes lifted to him, her face still expressionless. “I guess we’re even now. I broke a rib, you carved up my exoskeleton.” He grinned at her. “But if you were still so pissed about the rib we could have just settled it with some sparing, half an hour in the shooting range or…” he raised his eyebrows at her teasingly, “Talking about it. You know, like a nice, normal couple.” She just stared at him.

“Actually, Vakarian.” Chakwas said, now applying some medigel to the grooves for good measure. “Your overzealous CPR broke a rib _and_ punctured her lung. So she still got the worst of it and has an unsettled grievance.” Her eyes met Garrus’ and he could tell Chakwas had a very clear understanding of the current medical and psychological needs of the Commander. “As a doctor, I believe the best course for your health would be to not provoke her.” She finished, her lip twitching. “Well, I am positive you are not going to die, but when we land on Palaven I would still like you to check in with a turian physician. I am not an expert in carapace integrity and you seem to find a way to take all the chances you can which means your medical team can’t take any. Make an appointment before we land or I’ll do it for you and march you there myself.” Garrus nodded, giving the doctor a long, thankful look.

Chakwas crossed to Shepard and to Garrus’ surprise dropped to a squat before the huddled Commander. “The turian is going to live to raise hell with you for quite some time.” She said brusquely, her eyes roaming Shepard’s face. “Now let me have a look at that hand or I’ll get Joker to send a shuttle to Tachunka for Urdnot Wrex and Grunt, explain to them that you are being an idiot, and have them pin you down in the medbay so I can do my damn job.”

Shepard’s green eyes stared at the doctor for a moment and then slowly, silently, she extended her hand. Chakwas took it gently in her own, palpating the skin around the strands. She held her omnitool over it, taking in the information on the display. “Are you experiencing pain?” Chakwas asked.

After a moment, Shepard said, “It stings.”

“Vakarian,” Chakwas called over her shoulder, “You said these were longer originally? They certainly aren’t extensive enough to fill the affected area on your chest currently.”

“They were longer,” he confirmed. “When Shepard pulled away they vanished like they were just light or her biotics.”

“They’re partially biotics, that's for sure.” Chakwas said, frowning at her omnitool. She brushed one of the raised strands with a finger and Shepard winced. “They seem to be acting like nerves. These protruding strands are a mixture of cellular tissue and the synthetic mesh we use for structural support in reconstructive work. They seem to be focusing your biotics.” She sighed in frustration, “But I honestly can’t be sure because I am not a biotic myself and that is not my specialty either. I’m going to need to diversify my team if I keep working for the two of you.” She gave Shepard’s blank face a slight smile. “The pain you are feeling is because they are mimicking nerves, which get pretty unhappy when exposed.” She glanced from Shepard’s hand to Garrus. “Was anything significant happening when they began spreading?”

Garrus eyed the silent Commander for a moment before saying. “We were both asleep but my best guess was another nightmare started it.” His eyes remained on the Commander as he added, “which is completely understandable.” Shepard didn’t respond. She seemed lost in herself. “Her heartbeat and breathing were elevated when I woke up. She…” he paused before continuing. “She was saying ‘he’s mine’ in her sleep.” He glanced apologetically towards Shepard who continued to not acknowledge what transpired in the cabin. 

Chakwas nodded. “Ok. So she was likely feeling threatened. Maybe her adrenal system sparked this… a way of extending her control.” Chakwas sighed a second time. “Not that psychology is my area of expertise either.” Her eyes slid to Shepard. “We are discussing expanding the medical team on this ship with the Alliance in the morning.” she said under her breath. Shepard actually nodded at this. 

Chakwas dropped to sitting cross legged before Shepard. “Alright Commander. We are going to try something.” She said. “This plan could completely crash and burn. We really need Mordin for this kind of thing. He might have some ideas, but sadly my colleague is not available right now.” Pain shone in Shepard’s eyes at this. “But I’m going to try my best. Commander,” she said, holding Shepard’s hand in hers. “I need you to close your eyes and think of something calming and soothing. Something that makes you feel relaxed and safe. Whatever the hell that means for a nut like you.” She added gently. Shepard’s eyes drifted to Chakwas. Then closed. 

“Take a deep breath.” Chakwas said. Shepard obeyed (which Garrus marveled at slightly). He wondered if the doctor knew just how short the list of people the spitfire Commander actually listened to was. He knew that despite her respect for them, there had always been a one in three chance that she would question or challenge Anderson and Hackett when they gave an order.

Shepard took a deep breath and released it. She did this under Chakwas’ instruction a few more times and eventually the glow of the strands across her body faded and her palm became smooth once again; devoid of the extended strands. “Any stinging now?” Chakwas asked softly. Shepard stared at her hand and then shook her head. Chakwas nodded approvingly and pushed herself to her feet, saying softly: “I’ll be noting that I deserve a raise in my paperwork, Commander.”

Shepards eyes lifted to Chakwas, a small gleam there. “Anything you need, doctor,” she said softly. Chakwas chuckled and after a commiserating pat on Garrus’ shoulder, left the room. After a few moments Garrus crossed the room to Shepard and reached up a hand to help her up. She flinched back from it slightly.

“No,” he said, the stern tone surprising even him. Her eyes flicked to his. “I am fine.” he said sternly. “I am fine. Take my damn hand, Moria.” Hesitantly she did and he gently pulled her to her feet so she was standing before him. “Can you talk about what you saw?” He asked softly. 

Her lips tightened and she said hoarsely, “No.”

“That’s fine.” He said gently. “But you are coming to bed with me and you are sleeping in my arms. I do not care what happened tonight Moria Shepard, or what happens any night…” his piercing blue eyes held hers, “You do not scare me.” He gently ran a thumb across her face. She shuddered at it for some reason, but he pulled her closer. “I am going to keep you as close to me as I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can,” he said gently, “because I love you.” His eyes trailed over her face. “And the rest of the time I hope I can watch you through the scope of my rifle and will fill anything that sets off my boyfriend alarms with bullets.”

Her nose crinkled slightly and he raised an eyebrow.

“Boyfriend.” She said. It was actually the first thing she had said to him since she woke from the nightmare. “It… it just never feels… big enough. It doesn’t feel… worthy of you.” she said softly. 

He cocked his head to the side. “Well then,” he said. “Let’s see if we can do something about that on Palaven,” and swept her into his arms and crossed to the bed.

/././././././././././././././././.

Shepard paced her cabin, silhouetted against the light reflected off the scarred face of the Turian homeworld below. She swore in frustration and poured a measure of the strong Quarian liqueur into one of the elegant green-blue glasses and drained it in one gulp. Garrus had blessedly stored the bottle in her cabin rather than take it back to his rarely used one. She crossed to her closet and stared inside once again.

She would give almost anything for a Reaper attack right now. Ok, maybe not a Reaper attack, but a Collector attack or a Cerberus attack certainly. She closed her eyes, part of her begging the sound of alarms to fill the ship and drag her to do something, _anything_ apart from the impossible task at hand. She was the Commander of the best known warship in the galaxy. She had loyal friends of almost every race, had brokered peace, killed Reapers, outshot Archangel and received several mating requests on Tuchanka. How the hell did she have nothing to wear?

She stared at the stupid cocktail dress she had been sent by some citadel fashion company, the base layers for several different sets of armor, slightly revealing gear for extremely warm planets and her dress uniform. 

The dress uniform. It’s what she would have picked to land on Palaven. What she would have worn to mix for the first time with service-minded Turians on their homeworld. But after last night… the thought of touching it made her want to vomit. She couldn’t even look at the buttons on the sleeves without seeing those green eyes and that crested head. She pulled out several less used garments, placed them in front of the dress uniform and then shoved the mass of fabric towards the back of the closet with all her might. 

She stepped away from the closet and entered the bathroom, the only mirror left to her after she had broken the glass in her room during a nightmare. She stared at her slightly tangled hair and dragged a comb through it. It was getting long, longer than it had been in her whole career. She didn’t mind though. It made her feel different. It almost made her feel like a different person than the one who had died twice. Who had faced Reapers and the Council’s ignorance every day. She didn’t really know the long haired woman yet, but she knew she had hope, a bed that wasn’t empty when she came back to her cabin late at night, and thought the Council could suck a Krogan testicle. The long haired woman also had nothing to wear. Maybe something would come to her once she had dealt with her hair. Braids were neat and efficient, which seemed rather Turian. She divided the hair and began weaving the strands together when the motion of her hands in the mirror brought the motion of another pair of hands to mind. She froze, feeling sick again and tore at the beginning of the braid till her hair once again lay loose. She swore, threw it up in a tousled bun and marched stubbornly back to her closet.

She pulled on her favorite suit of armor. It was silver, with raised shoulders and a red streak that stretched across her chest. It was scratched and charred in a few places, but so was she, _and you know what_ she thought, _I’m Commander Shepard. I was fighting to protect them long before any of them knew what was going on, and I’m still fighting now._ The end of the thought made her feel tired. _They can take what they get._ She stared down at the planet, desperately wishing that at the end of the hour she would be meeting Primarch Adrian Victus instead of Castus Vakarian.

The doors to her cabin slid open and she turned to see Garrus step inside. She saw no dress uniform on him either. Garrus too wore armor. Old armor, that bore scratches, burns and was partially blasted away on his left side where the rocket that had scarred his face had hit. He smiled at her slightly and read the unspoken question in her eyes.

“I wore this armor on the day that I patched things up with my father.” he said, walking to the bar and pouring himself a drink. “When I was pinned down on Omega, before you showed up… I called him. I didn’t think I was going to get another chance…” He gave her a long look. “You showed up and saved my sorry ass about an hour later.” He drained the glass and placed it gently back on the bar. “I don’t want to forget that today.” 

“You look like someone who knows the cost of his duty.” she said softly, choosing the words carefully. His eyes gleamed.

“And you,” he said, stepping close and brushing back a stray lock of her hair, “look perfect.”

Shepard and Garrus heard the comm crackle, “Commander Shepard,” said Joker tensely. “We have a situation here and we might need General Vakarian….” Shepard and Garrus exchanged a bemused look.

“I’m gonna need a few more details, Joker.” Shepard said, starting towards the door.

“And what exactly makes you think you need my help?” asked Garrus tensely. 

“Well, General.” Joker said, his voice sounding strained. “Your sister has stormed our ship.” An unfamiliar voice let out a stream of curses. “And she’s pointing a gun at me.”

/././././././././././././././.

Echoes from Shepard and Garrus’ pounding feet rang through the corridor of the Normandy as the pair dashed for the bridge. Just out of sight Shepard heard a resonant female voice snarl, “Order your VI to turn operation controls over to Bloodhound now.”

She could hear EDI answer back, “I am not a VI and I only accept orders from Commander Shepard.”

“I don’t care what you are,” the new female voice laughed. “Put that thing down. If you try and shoot me the pilot will be dead.”

“What the hell is your deal? Your brother is my _friend._ ” Shepard heard Joker yell. “Would you please stop pointing that thing at me?”

“Jeff,” said EDI, “I feel it is important for you to know that I am feeling frustrated. If you had been amenable to my recommendations on taking a firearms course you would have the skills to disarm this turian and assist me in defending the ship.”

“Not the time, ED,” snapped Joker.

“I am perfectly aware.” Continued the turian voice, “That pilots on human ships have override privileges. If you don’t comply and transfer operational controls over to Bloodhound now I am authorized by the turian military to shoot you.”

Shepard and Garrus finally emerged from the corridor and slid to a halt at the bridge. A slim female turian was standing by the pilot’s chair. The muzzle of her pistol a few inches from the pilot’s skull. She wore sleek dark armor with a molted pattern that suggested it was designed for stealth assignments, although strange support structures ran up the exterior of the turian’s left leg. A program VI in the shape of a horned and scaled dog-like creature composed of bright aqua light stood beside her, emitting growling sounds. The turian had the same soft silvery gray exoskeleton as Garrus and bore identical clan tattoos. The crest of horns atop her head were less pronounced than those on a male turian and two graceful horns swept back from the line of her temple and cheekbones. Gleaming turquoise eyes snapped to them as they came into view, she raised a hand, and shot a blast of biotics at them.

Without thinking, Shepard’s shields flashed into life, covering herself and Garrus.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Atala?” Garrus snapped.

The female turian frowned at Garrus, her eyes darting between him and Shepard.

“I’m doing my damn job, Garrus. What the hell are you doing on a Cerberus ship?” She eyed Shepard again. “We knew you would be returning to Palaven with Commander Shepard, but no one said anything about Cerberus tech and a Cerberus vessel.”

“The Normandy’s no longer a Cerberus vessel. And it hasn’t been for some time.” Shepard said, eyes narrowing at Atala.

“The Normand’s crew were the ones who stopped Cerberus and uncovered what was happening on Sanctuary. We’re the ones who destroyed them.” Garrus said.

Atala snorted. “You took out the Illusive Man. You know very well that if you cut off the head of a cadian spitter a new one grows back in its place.”

Shepard frowned. “No one would work for Cerberus again after hearing what they did on Horizon.” She said darkly.

“Right,” Atala said. “Just like no one would work with them after they mutated and brainwashed innocent turians during the first contact war.” Her eyes were hollow.

Shepherd's heart pounded. She’d never heard about that. It _absolutely_ would have affected her feelings about working with Cerberus, and would have _totally_ affected her decision to not destroy the Collector base. She tried not to look at Garrus. How the hell had he felt about her cooperating with them if they had that kind of a history?

“We did what we had to in order to beat the Reapers,” Shepard managed. It was true. Sometimes it was all she could cling to…. “My crew and I were never quiet about what we were fighting and how dire the need for allies was,” she added. “Our warnings fell on deaf ears and I had to take the only resources offered. I made no secret of what I was doing.”

“Then why,” asked Atala, “Has Cerberus' name been scrubbed from most of your crew's service records? That definitely seems like you are trying to keep something secret.”

“Because,” said Shepard, **“as** you are perfectly demonstrating, Cerberus tends to leave a bad taste in people’s mouths and make them jumpy, especially after Sanctuary. The Alliance chose to thank those who served with me by removing that piece of information. These people risked a lot so that they and the rest of the galaxy could still live their lives, and they deserve to do that and further their careers without being connected to the very monsters they fought to destroy. Some of us,” she added, pointing to herself, “are a little too high profile to get a break from that kind of thing, but it doesn’t mean the rest of them shouldn’t. How the hell did you get access to those records anyway?” she asked with a glower.

“Kabalim Vakarian,” EDI said, nodding towards Atala, “Has hacked all the Normandy’s computer systems with the exception of myself and operational controls.” Shepard’s eyes widened. “It happened very quickly.” EDI added, sounding very human and pissed.

“How the hell-” began Shepard.

Garrus interrupted with a hand on Shepard’s arm, and a pointed look at his sister. “It’s kind of her job,” he said, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

Atala’s mouth curled into a very satisfied smile that Shepard recognized. “And I’m very good at it.” She said. Smug egos clearly ran in the Vakarian family.

“Miss Vakarian,” said Joker tensely, “I feel like Shepard and your freaking _brother_ have very clearly explained that we are not working for Cerberus, so could you please stop holding a gun to my head?”

Atala gave the pilot a sideways look that shut him up and then eyed Shepard and Garrus for a moment. “There are too many red flags here. There is no way this ship is landing on Palaven or staying in orbit without being under turian control. You have to relinquish control to Bloodhound,” she said, nodding towards the horned-dog-VI, “And she will land the ship for you.” The VI growled and seemed to shake its head as if dislodging a fly.

“The hell I will.” spat Shepard. “I’m the one who got the Krogan to save your sorry ass planet, so I should be able to land on it if I damn well please.” Spirits, she hated politics. She was here to help people, her damn ship had been boarded, she was yelling at her possible future _sister in law_ , who was holding a gun to her pilot’s head and telling her she had to hand over her ship so that she could go meet the computer-hacking, ship-hijacking female’s _father. T_ he whole damn reason she was in this mess was so she could ask him to please help her hold onto the peace she had, you know, _died_ for. She could barely think about the fact that she was maybe about to be related to this new host turian and the father that she had only ever heard discussed in tones that made him sound rather intimidating, as her gun and omniblade would not be appropriate methods of settling disputes with him. The temptation to shoot his daughter was mounting by the minute. “There is no-” she continued but stopped when Garrus put a hand on her arm. There was a pained and apologetic look on his face.

“Commander,” he said, “with all due respect, this is actually the best diplomatic option.” Shepard frowned and he continued. “Via Bloodhound. The Normandy will be exclusively under Atala’s jurisdiction, because that’s part of her job. And,” he added, now glaring at Atala, “despite this _very very bad_ first impression,” he paused for good measure. Atala scowled back. “She can be trusted. Apart from you, she’s the only person I would want on my six.”

A strange expression crossed Atala’s face at these last words.

“Commander,” said EDI, “It surprises me, but I second General Vakarian’s advice. Kabalim Vakarian has an exemplary service record, and her personal communications do not demonstrate any signs of any alarming personality traits-”

“Nothing alarming about putting a gun to my head…” EDI and Atala shushed the pilot simultaneously. He squawked in outrage.

EDI continued, “Or alarming political ideologies. She does indeed have exclusive control over the Bloodhound VI.”

Atala’s head snapped towards the AI. “How the hell did you get a hold of that kind of information?” She spat.

”I have hacked everything but operational controls of your VI and ship, as you did to us. I believe organics refer to this as ‘payback’.” EDI said blandly. Joker cackled. 

Shepard clenched her jaw. She had lost control of her ship or nearly had it stolen too many times. It might be an Alliance-owned vessel, but really… it was hers. She shared with Joker because he was Joker and she trusted him but otherwise…  
Slowly, she growled, “EDI, transition Normandy controls to Bloodhound.”

“Yes, Commander.” EDI said with a nod.

There was a very short, very tense pause and then the VI Bloodhound growled in a low female voice. “Operational controls successfully transferred.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” said Atala. Garrus gave his sister a withering stare. “I’ll let your pilot do the actual landing when you’re ready as a reward for good behavior.” She said, finally lowering her gun from Joker’s head. He breathed a long sigh and shifted in his seat as far away from her as he could. “You can proceed to your meeting in Prometra. Chief Vakarian has been notified of your delayed arrival.” She gave Garrus a slightly apologetic look at the mention of their father. “Bloodhound, initiate departure protocols.” Garrus continued to scowl at her and with a smirk she added. “See you at dinner.”

The Normandy plunged into darkness. 

“The fuck?!:” Shepard roared, finally losing it. A second later the lights flickered back on, Atala and Bloodhound nowhere to be seen. Garrus released a long suffering sigh.

“All systems normal and functional.” said EDI. “The turian stealth vessel is currently uncoupling from the Normandy. I apologize, Bloodhound temporarily extinguished lighting on this level.”

Shepard whirled to face Garrus and opened her mouth to begin shouting.

“I know, I know, I know!” he said hastily, raising his hands before him. Shepard glared. “I have a lot of explaining to do.”

/./././././././././././././././././

“And she’s a biotic?” Shepard asked incredulously. Garrus had just explained, for the first time in the years they had known each other and the months that they had _really_ gotten to know each other, that his sister was one of the top spies for the turian military.

Garrus sighed. He had been doing that a lot in the last half hour. “Yes,” he said, “they’re pretty rare and most turians don’t trust them. Outside of their assignments and combat they tend to keep their abilities under wraps. They’re assigned to a special branch of the military, usually used as spies like Atala, but also have a rank and position that is purely a well-maintained cover. Outside of families and the very top of the empire no one has a clue.”

Shepard squinted at him. “Are you a biotic?”

“No.” Garrus told her. “And turian biotics might need to lay low, but with all the hell I’ve followed you through you definitely would know by now. If I could create shields you would have a few less bullet holes and I certainly wouldn’t have taken a rocket to my face.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure you didn’t let it hit you so you could play damsel in distress and worm your way into my heart and crew?” Her lip twitched.

Now she was on the end of his withering stare.

“No. No, I did not. I had plenty of other ways of getting into you.”

Joker coughed loudly from his seat a few feet away where he was bringing the Normandy through Palaven’s atmosphere.

“Ahhh… sorry.” Garrus groaned and rubbed his face. Shepard laughed. “But no. I am not a biotic.”

“So you're telling me I’m dating the boring Vakarian sibling?”

Garrus glared. Shepard grinned.

“But seriously,” she said. “Being a biotic and a spy doesn’t explain how she was able to seize so much of the Normandy that quickly, or why she was so surprised and upset by the Cerberus connection.”

“She’s not just a spy.” Garrus said. “She’s a Kabalim.”

Shepard still looked confused. Garrus rubbed his face again. “It’s hard to explain in terms of the human military. They’re… they’re the most effective soldiers in our military, and almost exclusively assigned to covert or impossibly difficult ops.”

Shepard frowned. It sounded like the Salarian Special Tasks Group that Mordin used to be a part of.

“Biotic turians,” Garrus continued, “get assigned to specialist teams called Cabals. Every member of a Cabal has a cover rank and position but also works with their unit on special missions. And Atala’s a Kabalim. She’s the commanding officer of her Cabal. They’re specially trained to be extremely proficient in hack and slash operations.”

“Hack and slash?” Shepard asked.

“It’s slang.” he clarified. “She’s literally an expert in taking down just about any computer system and also killing anything that tries to stop her. They like biotics for that kind of work because they don’t necessarily need their hands to hold a weapon in order to go on the offensive. It also means they can take a shortcut in their combat training to make extra room for technical learning, but still end up with something very deadly in a short amount of time.” He smiled slightly. “It does mean that there are some small holes in their training. I’m definitely a better shot than she is.”

She swore. “Are all the females in your family this much damn trouble?” Garrus opened his mouth to reply, stopped to consider the question again, then shrugged and answered, “yes, actually.”

“Oh, _excellent._ ” Shepard growled.

“It’s why you’ll fit right in.” he added with a grin that she did not return.

He looked from Shepard to Joker and Edi, his expression showing some concern. “I know that she didn’t exactly introduce herself in an ingratiating fashion, but I am going to have to ask you to keep this incident and information about her position quiet. She’s excellent at her job. Proportionally the Cabals had the highest fatality rates in the war, and we need everyone we can hold onto. Our military can’t afford to lose any of them, much less a Kabalim, just because their cover was blown.”

“If they’re so secret how do you know so much about them?”

“Well, both my parents were pretty far up the command chain and now that I’m ‘General Vakarian’ I’ve been read in on the finer points of the Cabal so I could help them be effective against the Reapers. Frankly, I think part of why they were willing to give me the position and command I had in the war was because of her. I already had some information on the Cabals and I had a vested interest in keeping that information under wraps. I was convenient in a variety of ways.” He stared pensively down at the slowly sharpening terrain of Palaven below. “Her position is part of why it's been so hard to get information on where and how my family was doing during the war in the past few months. Her movements are almost always classified.” He gave Joker an apologetic look. “For example, I had no idea she would be involved in monitoring the ships and tech that entered Palaven. That’s not usually her kind of position.”

Shepard was still silently seething from her interaction with Atala, but she could see strain in Garrus’ face, a type of strain he rarely showed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “it must be hard to know that she’s the go-to officer for tough assignments and not know where or how she is doing.” 

He gave her a soft, grateful smile. “Yeah, well, she’s got sharp horns, she can take care of herself. Turns out it’s good practice for falling for you. Although, from now on I plan on knowing exactly what kind of a hot mess you are getting yourself into because I’ll be covering your back every step of the way.”

Shepard snorted. “Do you know why she was so alarmed at the Normandy’s Cerberus connection?”

Garrus' jaw was tight for a moment and EDI actually interjected. “On our flight plan and docking requests the Normandy is simply listed as an Alliance vessel. Information on its Cerberus construction is not included in our docking request data. In hacking Bloodhound, I was able to access data on the scans performed prior to Atala’s pursuit and boarding of the Normandy.”

A slow grin slid across Shepards face. “EDI, right now, you are my favorite. Remind me to give you a raise.”

“Actually Shepard, as an AI and an extension of Normandy's operating systems I do not earn any salary. Your crew does, but in financial terms I am the equivalent of the galley. I provide a variety of services but am not paid for them as others are.”

Shepard blinked. “Oh damn. I’m sorry EDI, I told you at Andersons I would get you on the payroll.”

“It is ok Shepard. In the immediate aftermath of that promise you fought the Reapers and then were in a coma for several weeks. I do not believe your lack of followthrough was due to lack of intent.” EDI said.

“Still,” said Shepard, looking pained. “Please send me a memo tomorrow to discuss changing that with Traynor and send an impassioned statement to payroll for good measure.” EDI cocked her head to the side, looking a little bemused, but nodded. “So what did you discover from hacking Bloodhound?”

“Bloodhound was running scans on the tech and programming of all ships entering and leaving turian space, using a variety of sources. That search included anything with Cerberus markings.” The AI shifted as if uncomfortable for a moment. “It was looking for very remote and small traces such as espionage malware or tracking programs. I was detected by the scans and set off every alarm in the scan’s programing. Bloodhound then accessed the crew and ship manifest and did extensive digging into files pertaining to General Vakarian’s presence on the Normandy. Kabalim Atala then docked her stealth craft and boarded the ship.”

“And held me at gunpoint demanding Garrus' location and what the hell he was doing on this ship.” Joker added dryly.

“Shit,” Garrus said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“Why was she so freaked out about you being on the Normandy?” Shepard asked.

“My family kind of has a personal history with Cerberus.” Garrus said, his voice tense. “The turian military has always been wary of them. Their humanist agenda and politics don’t exactly endear them to my people. I’m not too surprised that anything Cerberus related has them on edge right now. From the little I’ve heard from Palaven, what the Illusive Man was doing to control innocent people on Sanctuary reopened wounds from their work to control turians during the First Contact War.” His expression was dark. “It was the first thing I thought about when we were uncovering what was going on.”

“You never said anything.” Shepard said softly. 

He gave her a slight smile. “There were plenty of more immediate problems. I didn’t want to spend time stirring up old fears.”

“What exactly did Cerberus do during the war?” She asked.

It took a moment for Garrus to continue. “See if this sounds familiar.” he said darkly. “The group of mercenaries that gave birth to Cerberus intended to use some ancient artifact to transform turians into super soldiers that were completely under their control.” Garrus swallowed, seeming to struggle to continue.

“They intended to release them on civilians.” EDI said, prompting Garrus. He was still quiet and merely nodded for her to continue. “They did not proceed past the beta stage of the project. The captured crew of the Starspear, a turian warship, were used as an initial test population. After investigating a distress signal from the missing ship a covert turian team was sent to rescue or euthanize the captives. None of the few surviving test subjects were capable of normal function, and several attacked the team sent to retrieve them. The remaining captives were terminated.”

“The Starspear captain was a Vakarian.” Garrus said softly.

Shepard wanted to be sick. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. 

Garrus merely shrugged. “I’m not sure if Atala would have known that I was working for Cerberus under you. I didn’t exactly broadcast the information at home, and she may have been on a covert op and not updated. I’m guessing that was the case. Seeing my name on a ship with incredibly advanced Cerberus tech,” Garrus said, nodding to EDI, “probably scared the hell out of her.” He gave Shepard an apologetic look and added. “Her position as a Kabalim also gives her the jurisdiction to overpower and kill just about anything that happens to scare the hell out of her.”

He stared out the windows at the bank of clouds that obscured the planet beneath. “The other thing you have to keep in mind is that all my people are jumpy right now.” His eyes roamed the cloud-obscured sky as if he could see through to the ground below. “Most of our colonies were badly compromised and the Reapers had almost as much time to wreak havoc here as they did on Earth. Our fleet was decimated. I… I don’t think we’ve ever been this vulnerable as a species. We’re also taught to serve the empire first and ourselves second.” He nodded at the ground below. “There are a lot of people down there who feel helpless, powerless, and that wears on all of us. We can’t afford to play nice. In an emergency circumstance like this the Kabalim don’t really have any orders or restrictions. They are to do what they feel they must do.”

“That’s a lot of power for one individual.” Shepard said, “kind of like a Spectre.” 

Garrus nodded. “A lot of our Spectres were Kabalim or at least a part of a Cabal once upon a time.”

“Can I ask how your father feels about all this? I just… I remember you saying he hated Spectres and would have hated me.” Shepard asked.

Garrus chuckled, “Oh he hates it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s proud of her and how well she’s served the turian people, but he’s _never_ liked or trusted the Cabals. He was not happy when her abilities started showing and she was transitioned to the Cabal. You should see him at a formal dinner, bragging about how she’s high up in the Krogan Relations and Response Corps, that’s her cover position. It’s hilarious because he’s very convincing but you can tell it's killing him because he always needs a third glass of wine.” A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He’s always been disappointed in me for resigning from C-Sec and exasperated with how much Atala loves being a Kabalim. It’ll be interesting to see if the Reaper War has made those feelings a little less potent.

“I’m sure he’ll be proud of both of you.” Shepard said.

“Appreciated, Shepard,” he said softly. He straightened and addressed Joker and EDI again: “Speaking of which, he doesn’t know anything about Archangel and what I was doing on Omega.” Garrus looked a little nervous, in a way she had never seen before. She had watched him face down just about every nasty thing in the galaxy without losing his smirk or swagger, but right now he looked very young and unsure. “And I would very _very_ much like to keep it that way.” He gave Shepard a long look and then added, “if you rat me out I will kill you.”

Shepard couldn’t help the taunting smirk sliding across her face. She leaned against the back of Joker’s chair, staring directly at Garrus. “Oh really? And… what exactly do I get if I keep your secret? Archangel is the best shot in the galaxy, and a turian, shouldn't Commander Shepard be winning the hearts of local officials by sharing how much she admired him as a fighter?”

Garrus narrowed his eyes at her, “you are a mean little human.”

“Surely they need to know,” continued Shepard, grinning, “that he is a much better shot than the great Commander Shepard.”

“Alright, now you’re asking for it. I can’t believe you just-” but he stopped suddenly, his mouth open, face frozen in horror at what came into view behind Shepard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everything so far, more chapters coming soon!


End file.
